Truth in Silence
by Llewlyn
Summary: Voyager encounters a rift that opens to an alternate universe where the feared Maquis mutiny has taken place. Kathryn's trusted crew must face the terrible truth of their choices, but she and Tuvok must face death if there is any hope for either ship.
1. On The Edge

**Disclaimer:** Paramount, ye great and mighty, please do not suuuuuuue... Paramount, mum o' mountains, for Star Trek weeeee loooooove yoooooooooou!**  
**

**AN:** Due to many things, but mostly to the fact that I was distinctly dissatisfied with this story when I first posted it, I have decided to have another crack at it. Originally published under the title Shon Ha'Lock, it has now undergone extensive editing and, well, actually, even the core concept is changed, as well as how it ends. I decided that I wanted to know what happened in the alternate reality, and that there was a hell of a lot that I just let slip by in this one. That's why I like publishing on the computer. Hit a key, and start over. Simple as that.

And many many thanks to T'Prahn, a writer over in the TOS, who opened my eyes to many things, and made me brave. Go read her stories. She is a force of nature. So, onward.

* * *

Harry Kim stood at attention even when no one was watching. His deep brown eyes betrayed none of the boredom he felt, just in case the icy grey eyes of his captain might light on him from her command chair. Still, it was nearing the end of shift, and there was no harm in thinking, with a small portion of his thoughts, about the concert he had been programming into the holodeck for weeks. 

The hardest had been the timpani and the percussion. While Harry had never struggled with music, except for his own beloved struggle of choice with the clarinet, he had never taken the time to study the bare rhythms of the drums. Writing his own composition had been a wondrous and often frustrating challenge, but the percussion most of all. Where did the beats hit? How fast? How heavy? Or maybe he should be thinking more of a delicate touch?

"Mr. Kim?" His eyes shot up, and found himself looking into the uncompromising grey eyes of his captain, her eyebrow raised in a flawless, slightly uncanny imitation of her Vulcan security chief. Harry realized that he had been drumming his fingers against the console, and he stopped, aghast, his golden skin flushing violently pink. He swallowed, and pulled himself as far to attention as he possibly could, and decided to play innocent, cheeks flaming and everything.

"Yes, Captain?"

She frowned at him. "Perhaps you think your watch shift is a little too long, Mr. Kim?"

"No, ma'am." Short and sweet. But she held his eyes for a moment, and he could hear his heart thundering in his chest, and he knew with a sudden, brilliant clarity that he would die for this woman without a second thought. That sort of loyalty put everything in perspective. His posture relaxed slightly, and she relaxed with him, and nodded.

"Good. I need you to run a full long-range sensor scan before you go off duty, Ensign."

"Aye, Captain." Just like that, he was absolved of all wrongdoing. He blinked very slowly as he keyed up the sensor sweep. After four years, he might be getting the hang of this. As he scanned carefully through his screens, something tickled just on the edge of his sensor-enhanced vision, and he frowned. "Hmm." He punched up the strength of the long-range scanner, and frowned, his creased brow making him look almost old enough to be on the bridge. And then his head tilted, and his captain noticed.

"What is it, Harry?" She was keying up her own console as she spoke, but waited for his answer, knowing that he was the one to make the first call. Janeway knew how to delegate, and she knew who her experts were, and how to stand back and watch them work. Still, when Harry made humming noises, it was bound to be something at least mildly interesting.

"Spatial anomaly. Not a body. Not an object. Not gaseous." He was running through his logs, and she waited patiently, allowing him to think out loud. No matter how much she wanted to begin peppering him with possibilities. It had been a long, boring shift. She had just been thinking about how much she wanted to go back to her cabin and take a long, luxurious bath in the hottest water she could stand, and then wrap up in a robe and read a novel, possibly skipping dinner altogether and just having coffee. Wicked thought, that. But now, all thoughts of a bath were gone. Well, most thoughts. Behind her, she fancied she heard the audible snap of Harry's thoughts as he came to a conclusion. "It appears to be a subspace rift, Captain."

"Natural or artificial?"

"Unknown."

"Send a probe."

"Aye, Captain." The deep crisp voice of her tactical officer answered her, and she could feel the curiosity in his tone. She tossed him a soft, commiserating smile, and he met her eyes with imperturbable calm. "Probe launched." Tuvok's near-black eyes never left hers. She wondered of he realized how intense he looked. Unlikely. Vulcans probably never felt the need to practice facial expressions in the bathroom mirror. She gave him a short nod, and he turned back to his console.

Well.

She turned and tried to follow the progress of the probe. It was likely that she would learn more watching the blackness of space than the dark, expressionless mask that was, as of late, all that Tuvok had shown of himself in public, and even in private when she consulted with him. She wondered if it had anything to do with her increasing comfort and familiarity with Chakotay, and her lip twitched involuntarily. _Not going down that garden path, Kathryn, _she thought to herself. And, if she was entirely truthful, her old and trusted Vulcan friend had been frequently shelved in favor of Chakotay's less experienced but often less painful counsel in these last months. The more she thought about it, the more ashamed she felt. Perhaps she needed to have dinner with Tuvok. Perhaps she owed him considerably more than a casual explanation.

"Contact in 10 seconds. 5 seconds. Contact with spatial rift." Expecting a flood of data, Janeway tensed. Harry tensed. Tuvok might have shifted. Tom Paris held steady at the conn.

"The probe is not sending any data, Captain." Harry's voice expressed puzzlement without irritation, and Janeway felt a small bloom of pride in his control, even over her own perplexity.

"Equipment malfunction?"

Tuvok worked for a moment, and then shook his head. "The probe is working perfectly. It is simply not transmitting."

Janeway frowned, her quick mind flying past a hundred possibilities to the most likely probability. "The probe was shut off?"

Tuvok nodded, having already come to the same conclusion. "Yes, Captain. It appears that we are dealing with someone who not only understands our technology, but has our operating codes."

The senior staff on the bridge all breathed the name of a ghost, and Janeway swore that the ambient temperature dropped a few degrees. But it was Harry Kim who said her name aloud, his voice like a prayer.

"Seska."


	2. Conference

**AN:** I realized, with a grin, that i had officially arrived in the ranks as a Star Trek fan fiction writer as i was looking through my custom MS Word dictionary: Klingon, forcefield, holodeck, katra, commbadge… ::laughs:: I swear, it's fifty words long. Otherwise the story would be _The Attack of the Little Red Squiggle._ You know what I didn't have to add? Vulcan. Now that's a balanced universe. Sorry—attack of the tangent. Onward.

* * *

The senior staff had retired to the main meeting room, and were gathered around the table. Chakotay had been summoned and briefed, and was somber. His dark mood wasn't helping, but Janeway, for once, was at a loss. Having watched Seska die, having put her ghost to rest, and now being faced with the possibility that she was alive, at least in alternate form, and on the other side of that rift... it was a chilling thought. 

Tuvok stepped in with his customary clinical coolness. "Although it is indeed possible that we are looking at a rift to an alternate universe, that is not the _only_ possibility. And even if it were to be the case, it is not necessarily the case that Seska is on board Voyager just on the other side of the rift. Indeed, I find it astonishing that so many of the senior staff would jump to such an unlikely conclusion with so little evidence, and that only circumstantial."

Janeway nodded, subdued. "Point taken, Commander." He stiffened slightly, and she realized, belatedly, that she had used his rank rather than his name, but it was too late to take it back now. Suppressing a sigh, she turned to Harry. "What about you, Harry? Did you get anything from the probe?"

He nodded. "A shutdown sequence, Captain. Whoever it was saw it coming, or very nearly so. The rift itself gave out a great deal of sensor interference, and by the time it was clear, it was already in shutdown."

"How long did it take to clear the interference?"

"Five point three seconds."

"Sharp eyes." This was from Chakotay, who was focused intently on the conversation. He nodded. "Whoever they are, they must have sensors at maximum. Perhaps they were waiting for something to come through the rift."

"Or perhaps they have a blanketing program set on automatic." B'Elanna was just as disturbed as Chakotay, but she hid it better. Or maybe she just had more to keep her occupied. "The reaction time would suggest that they weren't watching for anything in particular, but knew that Voyager was on the other side."

Tuvok frowned. "It may not even be that complicated, Lieutenant." His fine, logical mind was honing facts down to their essentials, and sculpting probabilities from possibilities. Janeway loved to watch him at work, even if they were at a point of discomfort in their long friendship. With some of her crew, thinking cost them physically, and it almost hurt to watch. Tom Paris came to mind. He was at his best when he didn't have to think. Her mind lingered on Chakotay, who often suffered emotional consequences when he thought through his actions, as he was doing now. But Tuvok's body was merely an extremely aesthetically pleasing extension of his mind, and he operated in the reverse: that is, his mind suffered when his body took precedence. That happened rarely. She missed him, suddenly, with overwhelming longing, and resolved to remedy that at her very first opportunity. He continued, thankfully oblivious to her more personal line of thought. "If we cannot probe through the rift, it is unlikely that any other ship could, either. We only surmise that there is another Voyager on the other side of the rift because of the shutdown of our probe. If it is true, and they have a blanketing program on automatic, then one would surmise it is because they are attempting to shut down probes being launched—"

"—from their own ship!" B'Elanna finished, her eyes wide." Tuvok eyed her with mild annoyance, his sloping eyebrows tugging delicately upward at the soft skin of his outer eyelids, but nodded. He rarely was able to finish his own sentences, but had grown accustomed to that particular indignity, having lived in close quarters with impulsive humans for many years now.

Janeway leaned across the table and into his personal space, her hands inches from his uniform cuffs. "Are you suggesting mutiny?"

He gazed at her with troubled eyes, and nodded very slightly. "If all other suppositions are correct, that is a distinct possibility." For a moment, his gentle empathy washed over her, and she took comfort in that. The rest of the table digested this in stunned silence.

"Opinions," Janeway spoke at last, after her senior staff had time to process this terrible possibility. "Do we investigate, or do we continue on?"

"If they can shut off our probes, we would have to send in someone. A shuttle, probably to the edge of the rift. That might be very dangerous." B'Elanna was already calculating how to protect the shuttle, and Janeway knew that the ship' shields would figure somewhere in there.

"What would we have to gain by finding out if there was another Voyager on the other side of the rift?" Neelix spoke up quietly, seeming unusually subdued. He had run into his share of anomalies, but the thought of a hostile Voyager was new, and they were all a little shaken, Janeway most of all. After all, mutiny was not against a ship, but against its captain.

"We might be able to provide humanitarian aide, if it were required." This from Chakotay, as she knew it would be. His kindness was something she depended on, and she smiled warmly at him. The mood in the room lifted perceptibly as several heads nodded.

"Even though we may not know what we'll find, or who is on what side, Chakotay?" Her voice betrayed all of their thoughts. If it actually was a mutiny, which was by no means certain, then who had mutinied? The obvious answer was, of course, the Maquis. But Janeway didn't like obvious answers, and she didn't like answers that damned people she loved and trusted without any evidence. Her officers were true and determined, and had proved themselves over and over to her. Which meant that, very likely, some outside influence was involved. Which brought her back to the disturbing thoughts of Seska.

Chakotay held onto her gaze as to a lifeline. "I know who I am. I know who we are, and what we have forged here. Who knows what those people on that ship, if there is a ship, have gone through? But they deserve help, if they require it."

And just like that, they were committed. Had she thought that taking Chakotay's counsel had been a simple matter? She smiled to herself. No, there was nothing simple about either man. Outwardly, she nodded. "B'Elanna, figure out a way to get a protected shuttle as close to the rift as possible without letting whoever is over there detect it. Harry, you're with B'Elanna."

As B'Elanna and Harry left the room, their heads bowed together already, she felt more than heard Tuvok's intensity pulling her back. "Captain, I am the logical choice for the shuttle pilot." His had that look, as if the entire world could shift ten meters to the north and he would still be precisely where he had decided to stay. She raised an eyebrow at him, inviting him to continue, and he quirked a tiny corner of his mouth at her. "I am able to regulate my life signs, should it become necessary to..."

"Play possum?" Chakotay was looking at him speculatively. Tuvok suppressed an irritated sigh, and nodded curtly. Would he never be allowed to finish a sentence in this insufferable company? He felt his captain's eyes on him, and controlled the last of his irrational vexation. These were humans. Humans were impatient. He could not change that. He could only change himself. And then, only to the point at which he was able to make this communal living bearable. He thought of his past closeness with his captain, as she had forsaken his counsel for that of her first officer. It had been inevitable, he supposed. Chakotay was vital and human, full of life and laughter, as was Kathryn. Tuvok was accustomed to isolation. It was the way of his people. He would bear the silence and would not burden his captain, whose burdens were already so heavy. Would that she would allow him to carry the load. He realized that she was looking at him now, the old familiar warmth in her eyes. He felt a flush of warmth himself, through his cheeks and ears, and schooled himself not to swallow and betray his inappropriate, too-personal thoughts. He thought, not for the first time, that it was a balanced universe in which humans, on top of their wild, beguiling emotions, were not capable of psionic activity.

But instead of answering him, she turned to the rest of the staff. "If there is nothing else, dismissed. Tuvok, please. Stay." He did not miss that she addressed him by his name this time.


	3. Communion

**AN: **to Wee-Me... i insist that you ramble. I love it when you ramble. Rambling reviews are the best. Please, all of you, readers and lurkers and reviewers alike... watch me beg for the rambling reveiw. ::begs:: See? And Harry _is _adorkable... is there an evil!Harry story in here somewhere? Evil!Sulu was... reachable, because he was so very lithe and sexy... but Harry... i don't know. I don't know yet how he will turn out on the other side. Guess i'll have to stay tuned. And to FireBirdGirl... mmm, i wish i knew. ::hugs:: Onward.

* * *

He stood immediately, but she didn't move to her chair, or to any other place that would seat them again at conference. Instead, she simply studied him, and he took this as an invitation to study her in turn. Slowly, his posture relaxed, and his head tilted slightly, and she mimicked him, whether consciously or un-, he did not know. Her face was smooth and pale, and her short-cut hair swept back impatiently. He was surprised to realize that he missed her long hair, although he knew that it was illogical to miss something which had never been his in the first place, and something inanimate, at that. Kathryn's amber hair had been aesthetically pleasing to him, though, and he had woken from dreams more than once having to put out of his mind, through meditation, the imagined feel of it in his hands, or… elsewhere. Distractions like this plagued him, and he did not know why he was remembering them now. In fact, he had believed the memories completely gone. Clearly, they still resided somewhere in his mind, which, disturbingly, meant he had never truly wanted to purge them in the first place. 

She walked toward him, straight-backed and silent, until she was slightly within his personal space, but he didn't retreat. Normally, Vulcans kept wide boundaries due to their discomfort with being touched, but Tuvok and Kathryn were long past that. Her eyes were nearly blue in the dim light of the conference room. He simply waited. She would speak when she was ready.

And she did. "Tuvok, I feel I owe you an explanation, and I had intended to make it over dinner. Now we won't have that luxury." She looked away from him for a moment, in a manner he clearly recognized as not gathering her thoughts, but her courage. Intrigued, he felt himself stilling his movements so as not to startle her or interrupt her thought process. She had not broached the topic of their estrangement since he had first noticed that she had begun to shut him out. Perhaps this was what she wished to speak of now.

Unexpectedly, he felt her two forefingers sliding delicately down his arm and hand to press against his two fore-fingers in the Vulcan greeting between bondmates, between lovers. Unable to conceal either his shock or a rush of desire that he could neither explain nor control, he stepped back. "We are not bonded, Kathryn." His eyes wide, he finally swallowed, and realized he had spoken aloud what was perfectly evident to both of them. His skin heated with embarrassment and he was grateful that his dark complexion hid the flush. Her eyes were equally wide as she watched him, lips parted, startled by his emotional reaction. Her own light skin hid nothing, and her blush pinked every centimeter of flesh from the line of her jaw to the dainty rounded curve of her ears.

"Tuvok…" she began. "I'm so sorry. I…" She broke eye contact with him, her eyes casting downward to their hands, still curled gently together. The significance of this was lost on neither of them. "You can list this as another human weakness, Tuvok. But I haven't been feeling very… safe around you these past few months."

His brow creased. "Captain?" He was about to say, _I don't understand_, when suddenly he did. All at once, everything fell into place with the sigh of a thousand flower petals. Turning neatly in mid-thought, he instead said, "Your safely has never been in question."

She turned and smiled wryly, sadly at him. "That, my dear friend, is part of the problem."

He sighed softly, allowing the human expression of sorrow and frustration to serve him most appropriately. "I had assumed that you and Commander Chakotay had an… understanding." His voice was low, as if they could have been overheard. She looked sharply back up at him, and then her expression collapsed in rueful sadness. She shook her head.

"Tuvok, had you left us back on New Earth, then yes, there would have been… there _was_ something between Chakotay and I. And I have been behaving in an unforgivable manner toward you lately." She breathed out, and tugged her hand away from his gently, pulling both hands through her hair and pacing toward the portals. "I just… I thought that distance would help me deal with…" She looked into the space beyond them, not finishing the sentence. "And I have only succeeded in acting in a very unprofessional manner toward you. I am sorry, Tuvok. It was not my intention, and I would like to…" Shaking her head, she sighed again. Would she never be able to finish a sentence concerning her complicated feelings toward him?

He went to her, this time stepping into her space. "Although we are not bonded, Kathryn, I would not be in opposition to continuing this discussion at a later time, if that is agreeable to you." He could feel the warmth between them escalate as their bodies communicated in a deeply subconscious connection. Had he thought just a few moments ago that humans were incapable of communicating without words? Almost without thinking himself, he lifted her delicate wrist carefully up between them, pressing his thumb into her palm. Her eyes were focused and intent, and he could read both trust and the indescribable emotion that she called love there. It was too much to contemplate now. Bringing his other hand up, he pressed his two forefingers against hers. For an ageless moment, they stood, joined by a touch, and by their own inability to voice a single thought.

His captain regained the power of speech first. "Most agreeable, Tuvok." Their hands fell apart as one, but the heat lingered on their fingertips. Kathryn tried to look unobtrusive as she cleared her throat.

"As to your other proposal, I agree. Get with B'Elanna, and figure out what you need. I don't want you going near enough to where your sensors are disrupted, but perhaps she can boost the shuttle sensors with Voyager's."

Tuvok nodded slowly, his mind balking at moving on from the touch, which for him had involved more than just physical sensations. Kathryn…his _Captain_ had been right to be careful around him. Her emotions concerning him were rich and deep, and Tuvok found himself wanting to become lost and wander among these new revelations. As best as he could, he tightened the iron lock of his control. Thankfully, his voice still functioned optimally, if as a somewhat softer volume than normal. "Aye, Captain."

They exited the conference room together. Chakotay looked up briefly, having wondered what was taking so long, and noticed that while Tuvok looked imperturbable as usual, Kathryn looked a little flushed. He hoped they hadn't had an argument. Tuvok headed for the turbolift and she for her command chair, and neither of them felt the need to fill anyone in. But Kathryn spoke to the comm. "B'Elanna, Tuvok will be joining you. He's the pilot. Keep me informed of your progress, and see how much you can boost the sensors."

"Already on it, Captain. Should be done in ten. Torres out."

Janeway nodded, satisfied, and barked at the rest of the command crew for status reports, which flooded in. Chakotay watched unobtrusively as she listened, nodding, and he saw her hand come up to rub against her lip. His eyes darkened, but then he shook the feeling away. The whole business about Seska had him flustered and worried. He needed something to do besides worry about what Kathryn was doing in closed rooms with the Vulcan security chief. Besides, what could possibly have happened in just a few minutes? He shook his head, and rose to stalk around the bridge, shedding these unreasonable thoughts like water. He and Kathryn had always had somewhat of an understanding, ever since New Earth.

Hadn't they?


	4. Known and Unknown

**AN:** I realize, _she thought quietly to herself,_ that I may have lost a few of you back there, because of the flickers of a possible relationship that you may not agree with. Please believe me when I say that I would never _outright_ ignore a pre-existing marriage. I hope I address that in this chapter. But let me also say, being wise-ish without being particularly old, that _life is short._ See? I did learn something, Mark.

And so, onward.

* * *

Tuvok stood quietly to the side as B'Elanna made last minute additions to the shuttlecraft sensor arrays, and gathered his thoughts. It was not easy. Much had been conveyed in few words between him and his captain, and he did not know exactly how to continue. Tuvok had always prided himself in knowing the next decision that he would make, and exactly which reason he would make it for, carefully weighing and balancing his options against the facts and known quantities.

He was bonded. T'Pel waited for him, as he traveled slowly back to her. He had four children, whom he wished most keenly to look upon again. This he knew as he knew that he lived.

Kathryn was his closest friend here on Voyager, on their little island in the midst of the dark unknown that was the Delta Quadrant. This he knew because of her ability to slip past his guard. He also desired her physically, as she did him. Had he any doubts of that, they had been quenched in the mind touch they had shared only a few moments past.

She was, in addition, his Captain, and he would go wherever she sent him. This he knew in the soul of his loyalty and courage. And someday, he would watch her die, either through age or through the inevitable loss that came with being what they were. He knew this not with his mind but with his heart.

How long would it take for them to get back? This he did not know. How long until his own biology betrayed him, as it had Vorik? This, at least he thought he could judge with fair accuracy. But was it for him to say that he would call his captain, whom he cherished, to be used as a tool for his own biological gratification? The very thought turned him cold.

She came down to the shuttlebay to see him off. It wasn't unprecedented, but it wasn't commonplace, either. She stood to his side, and conversed with B'Elanna about trajectories and sensor relays. And then she nodded, and handed him a padd with all the specs he would need. Again, not unprecedented, but she could have just as easily downloaded it into the shuttle's data banks. As the padd left her hand, her fingertip grazed his. She didn't even blink. Occasionally, her emotional control would have met with even his mother's approval. He bowed to her, acknowledging a great deal more than the Lieutenant could have ever imagined, and then climbed into the shuttlecraft. There would be much to discuss when he returned.

* * *

The fever-like heat of his skin always managed to catch her by surprise. But watching him walk away had become more difficult with each passing week. The hatch closed on his slim, graceful form, and she couldn't help but think, ah, this is it. He's never going to have that cup of tea he promised me. Except this time there was so much more than that. Her fingers still tingled from the mind touch. With an effort, she dragged her thoughts away from him. Enough. It was time to return her mind to the ship. Her entire mind. She couldn't afford to leave a piece of it behind in a shuttlecraft floating toward an unknown rift in space. That was what being the captain meant.

Returning to the bridge, she was met by the warm, brown, _questioning_ eyes of her executive officer. Oh. Had it been that obvious? She merely raised a questioning eyebrow at him. "Something, Commander?"

Chakotay flushed lightly in his beguiling way, his bow-shaped mouth pursing as if to indicate that she had caught him, but he would rather not admit it out loud. She let it pass for the moment, but filed it away for later. Clearly, there was going to have to be more than one discussion. Her eyes didn't linger, although her mind did for one fleeting moment, on the man that she would have, at one point in her life, accepted as life mate. Then Harry spoke, and the bridge was all business.

"Shuttlecraft launched, Captain. Contact with rift in one minute."

"Maintain communication silence, Mr. Kim."

"Aye, Captain." They had discussed this, but they hadn't needed to. Obviously, if they were facing another Voyager, they didn't want to be broadcasting out on subspace channels, or even short range. B'Elanna had briefly debated scrambling and encoding, but Janeway had firmly nixed the entire thought. The only communication they would have would be the heartbeat before an emergency beam-out, if that.

Tuvok had his orders, Janeway thought. He was to go to the rift, attempt to make a sensor sweep, gather as much information as he possibly could, and return. With the information gathered from the sweep, she could make a decision about what course to follow. No purpose would be served by thinking beyond that.

"Shuttle is at marked coordinates. Tuvok is initiating sensor sweep. Voyager is enhancing." Harry sounded calm at Ops, and Janeway gave him a quick nod, breaking eye contact with the faint glowing edge of the rift only for a moment. She imagined that she could see the tiny shuttle, a grey fleck in a sea of black, and then dismissed the thought impatiently. Utter nonsense. Tuvok wouldn't be feeding the data back to them either—everything would be contained on the shuttle's databanks until he returned.

"Running dark," Chakotay murmured beside her.

She turned to him, glad for his soothing, steady company. "Hopefully dark enough."

"Captain!" Harry's voice was sharp with surprise. "The shuttle just vanished from the sensors."

"Long range, Mr. Kim. Did it go through the rift?" She kept her voice steady. _I am on the bridge, on Voyager. I am not out there, in the black, with him. I am on the bridge…_

"No, ma'am. It was instantaneous—between one frame and the next… wait! It's back."

"Scan for lifesigns, Mr. Kim," she snapped. Chakotay looked at her sharply. She didn't look back. Betraying their position was hardly avoidable now. Harry punched up the sensors and scanned the shuttle.

"One lifesign. Vulcan. Lifesigns… Captain, I think he's dying!"

Janeway slapped her commbadge, already heading to the turbolift. "Transporter room, emergency beam-out from shuttlecraft to sick bay! Immediately! Doctor! Incoming medical emergency! Chakotay, you have the bridge." And the door on the lift snapped shut on her heel, leaving a stunned bridge crew behind, wondering what the hell had just happened.


	5. Thought Contact

**AN: **To all of you who aren't compulsive researchers, Lt. Stadi was on the original bridge crew of Voyager. Massive and firey hugs to reviewers-- you all are adding to the richness of this story as we go along in ways i can't even begin to track. Further up, further in...

* * *

Tuvok woke to a nearly overwhelming urge to vomit. He swallowed, and swallowed again, his gorge heaving and the interior of the shuttle spinning unnaturally, until he was able to calm his stomach, and take in his surroundings. The shrill whine of a transporter tickled his ears, and disoriented, he tried to turn to the source and realized that he was laying on the floor. How had he gotten here? He reached for his phaser as the transporter whine faded, uncertain what to expect, or even if he could command his body to defend himself.

"Sir?" A hesitant female voice, rich and some how vibrant with color, addressed him from behind. And then, "Well I'll be an overripe uttaberry. Harry was right."

Tuvok believed that anyone who might compare herself to such a type of vegetation might be less than hostile, since she must be from Betazed, and hopefully typical of her species. Images of Lon Suder passed through his mind, and he recognized that he was making an assumption without facts. He turned, holding an arm over his stomach and keeping a hand close to his phaser, and looked at the intruder.

She was a beautiful woman, as many Betazed women were beautiful, with black eyes and dark hair. She wore not a uniform, but rather a dark shirt of some heavy silk fabric and flowing skirts in a rich red—hardly practical for a Starfleet officer. She was staring at him, taking in the details of his uniform, his hair, and his face. He felt a warmth wash over and through his mind, and recognized the Betazed mind touch, but chose not to resist. They were incompatible telepaths—he had discovered this the hard way. "Who are you?" He was pleased that his voice was steady and calm.

"Lieutenant Stadi. Am… am I not on your Voyager?"

To his credit, he did not pause. "We have never met, Lieutenant." He did not allow himself to remember why that was the case. It was not right for a person to know the manner of her death, in this place or in any other. She seemed to accept this, and he rose to a sitting position with care, not looking away from her. "Will you explain how I have come to be here?"

She kneeled down next to him, and to his intense discomfort, stroked her hand over his short-cropped hair. "You are so different from him," she stated softly. "So straight and calm, where he is… but this is unimportant."

"You are in love with him." Tuvok could not keep a hint of surprise out of his voice. Stadi looked deep into his eyes for a moment, but Tuvok could sense no invasion. Then, she nodded once.

"It is not something I would share. Especially now."

"Please explain." But she shook her head.

"We have no time for explanations. I propose a meld, Tuvok, for the sake of both thoroughness and simplicity. You will have your answers, even for the questions that you cannot know to ask."

The image of Suder reared again, and the hot blood in his veins chilled through. The thought of being incapacitated in this completely unknown situation was unacceptable. He needed to get back to his ship, and for that he feared he needed the resources of this Stadi, and her ship. Losing the ability to control his emotions would not lead him toward that goal. "We are not compatible," he said flatly. But Stadi rested her arm softly, sadly on his forearm, and looked into his eyes again, this time with a deep sincerity.

"I have melded with Tuvok many times. We learned slowly, out of necessity. You will find proof of that as soon as you mind-touch with me. This I promise you."

He studied her for a very long time, but she did not look away. Her eyes were dark and calm, and this in itself impressed him. Clearly, she had spent time in the company of his counterpart, at least enough that his scrutiny did not bother her. Finally, he nodded, and reached out to make the contact. If he did not find evidence of what she had promised to be true, he would withdraw immediately, and take another path.

* * *

Darkness. Absence. The absence of her. Once it had happened; the link snapped like a thread pulled too tight, and he had lost his T'Pel, his beautiful fountain of light, the source of his heart-spring. The agony of it had been his near-death. But the Caretaker's trance had suspended him from true-death, healed his mind in a way that he could not have managed alone, and when he had woken, he had been alive. He had continued to live simply because of inertia, but not by choice, until he had loved her. Now, broken again, there was nothing for him to grasp but welcoming death. They had won. He did not care. She was lost.

Sound around him. A acerbic voice… someone he knew. Nothing that mattered. A door, another voice. "Doctor, how… who? Oh my God, is that…?"

…her voice was familiar, like a key too far from a lock…

"Captain, please don't. We have no idea if he's hostile, or… or _feral_. He looks positively _wild_, actually. I can hardly believe the bioscans match."

"Tuvok… can he hear me?"

"His life signs are fading fast. Some extreme form of shock, but I can't find any sign of physical trauma at all. There's nothing I can do, Captain, beyond trying to keep his body alive."

…come closer…

"No! Captain, don't touch the touch telepath!"

A wash of heat, and skin contact, and thought contact… and she flooded into him like a river of golden fire.

* * *

On the bridge, Chakotay recovered first, almost instantly, although it seemed to him like he had grown a year older in the time it took him to react. "Harry, tractor that shuttle. Don't move it, yet. Just hold it steady. Can you tell me what happened?" His voice sounded normal to his own ears, and that was good. Normal was good.

Harry Kim responded quickly, a few staccato taps pinning the shuttle like a butterfly to the wall of the rift. Chakotay was already pacing. "Scan for tachyon emissions."

"Aye sir." Harry was puzzled. "No sign of any type of emissions that our scanners recognize." He liked puzzles, but not when captains or commanders were roaring and pacing, because then he tended to get nervous and miss things. What he missed right now was Tuvok's steadying presence on the bridge. Something caught his eye, and his zoomed in close to the visual scans on the shuttle, and then triple checked against the video logs from before the disappearance. "Commander, that's not our shuttle!"

To Chakotay's immense credit, he didn't even ask how Harry knew, but just slapped his badge. "Chakotay to Janeway. We have beamed aboard an individual from the alternate reality." Silence greeted him, and he repeated his hail, his voice tinged slightly with desperation. "Chakotay to Janeway. Please respond."

"Doctor to Chakotay," came the Doctor's imperturbable voice. "I think you had better get down here."


	6. Stadi

**AN:** I just wanted to mention here that i have been both surprised and pleased by how many closet (and not so closet) Tuvok fans there are out there. Response has been amazing-- i am gobsmacked. I hope there are at least five writers out there who think Tuvok is a fun character to muck around with (as well as being damn sexy... and _that_, my friends, is _canon._ I mean, women fell all over themselves for this man. Sorry-- parenthetical tangent) and decide to write him, because i for one, need more Tuvok. And that needs a t-shirt. Ahem. Onward.

* * *

It was disconcerting, at first. Light leapt all about them, and warmth. And then Tuvok saw… through Stadi's eyes he saw himself—and was so startled that he nearly broke the link. _That is he/you…_ Stadi told him in their joined mind, and it was. But Tuvok could hardly countenance the difference. This man's hair fell in heavy, long, impossibly small, dark braids, threaded through with gold, to the midpoint of his shoulder blades, and it was tied back with occasionally various colored ribbons in what looked to Tuvok to be a haphazard manner. While he could clearly see his own graceful ears, a fine dark scar laced across his cheek, and a heavy gold earring was punched through one ear. So he chose to display his bonding in a manner that Tuvok had not. As well, he wore not a uniform, but a tunic without sleeves, made of some kind of heavy blue silk, which exposed heavily muscled shoulders and arms, also crossed with scars. In Stadi's thoughts, her Tuvok was standing easily at a console in engineering, his body blocking that of another, smaller person. The memory-Tuvok moved aside, and Tuvok's breath caught in his throat. It was Kathryn. 

The memory-Kathryn was small, in rough coveralls stained with various engineering room fluids—clearly not the captain of this Voyager. A smudge darkened one cheek, and her hair was braided awkwardly, as if she had done it without a mirror, but she was smiling. Memory-Tuvok grasped her arm gently and spoke something that Tuvok didn't hear, and he felt Stadi patient beside him within the link, as she allowed him a moment to absorb the beginnings of her reality. There was something else, something tangible that she was keeping from him, but he did not reach for it. Memory-Kathryn beamed brightly at the Vulcan and shook her head, and Tuvok found himself feeling awkwardly invasive, as if this stolen moment should have been his, and he had denied himself. And then Kathryn turned, and a bright flash of gold caught Tuvok's ear, and he stared in abject shock at the heavy gold earring in her ear… one that matched the one in his mirror-self's own.

Bonded.

Stunned, he could not tear himself away as he watched his counterpart lean down and steal a private, intimate kiss from the laughing woman that Tuvok had built up a fortress of walls to keep out. Stadi stood sorrowfully by, and then mind-touched him gently.

_I see there is much that changes, and much that does not change. Tuvok, we must go. There is much that you must know, and so much of it that will give you great sorrow._

_I feel no such thing as sorrow._ But he knew that this was a hollow lie as well as she did. He allowed her to guide him, too numb to find his way through his own meld. But she had told him the truth, and she knew where to go, and what he had to know.

It had begun when Janeway had ordered the Caretaker's array destroyed. Resentment had simmered, but it had not boiled over until she had made one critical error—she had made Tuvok her executive officer. One small detail, and a natural link in the chain of command. But in hindsight, Tuvok saw that the error had had devastating effect. Chakotay had taken second place well, at first, and handled the crew assignments with his normal efficiency, but Janeway's and Tuvok's natural comradery had effectively shut him out of many of the top-level command decisions, and his resentment had added its force to that of the rest of the Maquis.

Mutiny had been inevitable. It had happened at the planet Sikaris. When Janeway had refused to barter with the black market Sikarians for the transporter technology that might have gotten them home, Tuvok had gotten it for them, out of fear for her life. When it hadn't worked, he been forced to take her to his quarters and had defended her life with his own. For a week, they had stayed holed up together, until Tuvok and Chakotay managed to negotiate a truce, of sorts. He would accept a reduction in rank, to second officer, and allow Chakotay to captain the vessel and Seska to be its executive officer, in exchange for Kathryn's life. Tuvok also insisted that they become bondmates, as it would lend her extra security. As a pair, they were too valuable to risk.

She had agreed, to his immense relief.

Over time, as the dynamic of the ship had changed, Kathryn had become… smaller. She was an astonishing scientist, but as her mind became more focused on the problems that filtered down from command, she became less interested on getting home and less connected with the daily life of the ship. Meld-Tuvok watched her with great sadness, uncaring of his own lack of emotional control within the bond with Stadi. He did not like to see his captain so… disconnected with the inner workings of a ship he considered to be hers. And indeed, he became aware that in Stadi's memories, others were also aware of this change in her, and unhappy with the direction that the ship had taken. Alliances made with the lesser Kazon sects led to disastrous battles that Voyager barely escaped intact from. Seska was intelligent and calculating, and Chakotay mild and thoughtful, but they lacked a shared morality, and without Starfleet's tenants to guide them, they often stumbled. Memory-Tuvok often talked to his wife late into the night, asking her advice, but more often than not she lured him into lovemaking instead, knowing how helpless he was against that particular ploy. Meld-Tuvok flushed to his ear-tips, and he felt Stadi pause beside him, radiant with impish joy. She gently tugged him along.

About a year ago, something had happened that had caused a small group of Starfleet officers to come to Kathryn in secrecy and beg her to help them retake control of the ship. Stadi had been among them, and Harry, meld-Tuvok was pleased to see. At first, she wouldn't hear of them risking their lives, or that of Voyager. But they had been persistent, and her husband supportive, and the old light had begun to shine in her eyes again.

There had been one crucial element missing from their plan. They had needed B'Elanna Torres for their plan to work. No ship could be retaken without the full cooperation of the Chief Engineer. And she was in love with Chakotay; hook, line, and sinker.

Stadi paused in her meld-narration, her care and tenderness collapsing into grief. _Please, break the meld, Tuvok. I cannot go on._ _I will speak the rest._

Startled, and feeling hazy, Tuvok broke the link. Both of them took a moment to readjust to the inside of the cabin of the shuttlecraft, and then Stadi continued, her voice subdued. "We thought that we had her full cooperation. She had agreed, because we had promised that we would not harm Chakotay. But… but at the last moment, Tuvok was somehow taken, and sent out in a shuttlecraft… and…" Her voice broke, and she couldn't finish. Tuvok stared at her for a moment, silent with dismay, coming to the only conclusion he could from her distraught state. Stadi sank her head into her hands, and without knowing why, he put his arms around her and she collapsed against him and wept. They sat on the floor of the shuttle like that for a long moment, until she calmed, and Tuvok was able to breathe again.

She finally spoke. "Harry has arranged a private beam-out. He knows his way around that ship like no one else. We will go and see her now."

Tuvok could only nod. He was going further into the lion's den, but he could not stop himself now. Logic told him to remain on the shuttle and wait for his Voyager to trade his counterpart back to this horribly twisted reality, but he could not walk away from her now. He could hear her voice in his head saying, _Life isn't always logical, old friend. Sometimes you open the door that's in front of you._

He nodded to Stadi again, indicating he was ready. She grasped his hand, and tapped her badge. "Two."

The interior of the shuttlecraft faded into darkness.


	7. Kathryn

**AN: **Sorry for the delay in posting—there is a story involving a gorgeous, drunken Irishman and a pint of whiskey (and alack, nae, Maegan, but that's yet another story ) but I'm already telling you one ::grins:: About the headache, now… yeah, that was bad. Ah, here is the chapter where I fully expect half of you to jump ship… but i hope not. Truly, this is going to be a wild ride, Mr. Toad. And everybody wish my mom a happy birthday! Onward!

* * *

Kathryn floated in a sea of pain: a livid, vicious green, but she felt nothing of pain herself. It was all around her, this ocean, stretching as far as she could see. Immediately against her, however, the ocean cooled to a soothing wash of liquid light. She reached out, spreading her healing touch outward, and over the lapping waves heard her name, a whisper that first caressed and then enveloped her. There was not thought except of belonging. 

_This is your place_, he agreed. He stood before her, in the ocean, naked and hip-deep in the cool blue waves, his broad chest both unfamiliar and intimately known to her, crossed with scars that she had never seen and that she could trace even when her eyes were closed. She smiled up at his long, delicately braided hair, now unbound and flowing down his back and across his shoulders, and stroked through it with both hands, and in return felt his hands slip around her narrow back and pull her close to him, pressing her abdomen against his in a manner at once so unthreatening and breathtakingly intimate that tears sprang to her eyes.

For a long moment, they stood basking in the companionship of one another. To Kathryn Janeway, who had been alone for the entire time she had been in the Delta Quadrant, and who considered this man… she struggled with the dichotomy… who considered Tuvok as a dear friend, who loved him, who desired him as a lover in _theory_ without ever having even kissed him, much less this richly tactile embrace… she did what she had always considered unthinkable, and pressed herself against him completely, her head tucking neatly beneath his chin, his arms enfolding her protectively, one hand with fingers splayed across her hip underneath the waves. The sensation of his skin against hers, even within the meld, was electric. This luxury, up to this moment unimaginable, was now nearly unfathomable.

_You belong not to me, but to my… brother,_ he whispered, and his mouth brushed against her forehead.

"Tuvok has no claims on me yet," she reminded him gently. But her Vulcan lover laughed, a rich and beautiful sound, and spoke the next aloud, his dark eyes gentle on her.

"Do you think you could do this if you did not love him with the deepest, the most dedicated love, Kathryn?" He looked around him in wonder. "I am dead twice now… once for T'Pel and once for my Kathryn, for she is indeed dead in my reality."

She swallowed, the captain reasserting herself for a moment. "Is that why you were dying?" But before he could answer, she felt a cold wash stinging through her veins, and looked up at him in alarm. He squinted at her, his brow furrowed in a way that was so perfectly familiar, she wondered for a moment when he had had time to grow his hair so long.

"They are forcing you out of the meld. They are concerned for your safety."

"Are you alright, Tuvok? Are you well?"

He sighed, and nodded tiredly. "I will live." But he did not elaborate, and she did not ask why. The reason was readily apparent in his dark, sorrowful eyes. And then the bright lights of sickbay replaced the cool blue seascape of the meld, and Chakotay's concerned gaze replaced that of Tuvok's loving one. She smiled wanly at her first officer, fighting the urge to demote him. She would have done the same thing, had she found him in such a position. Command decisions were like that.

"Kathryn, are you alright? We found you in some sort of involuntary meld, and the Doctor said he could bring you out without harming you." Chakotay sounded pained, and she hastened to reassure him.

"You did the right thing. Doctor, how is Tuvok?" The Doctor was scanning the Vulcan, who looked considerably more fragile outside the meld than in it. He was wearing what might have been a uniform of some kind, once, but was torn as if he had fought for his life. Considering that he had been separated from his… his wife, and that she had been murdered and he had been left to die, she thought that he had likely taken more than a few with him. Then she reexamined those thoughts with a heavy sigh. Who would that have been? Paris? Chakotay himself? B'Elanna? She needed answers. "Is he awake?"

The Doctor turned to her and frowned in his own, special way. Janeway sometimes wondered if he practiced in front of a mirror to get that particular sarcastic edge without having to speak. "Is it safe to wake him?" She knew what he was thinking, though. "He has similar emotional control. The differences only seem to be aesthetic."

The Doctor raised a perfect Vulcan eyebrow. "Then care to explain how you made him well when I couldn't, Captain?"

She fixed him with a stare that would have made blood freeze. It was fortunate that the Doctor was holographic. "Not really."

"Very well. I'll wake him." The Doctor turned huffily to a medtray, but was halted mid-reach by an unexpected voice.

"No need. I am awake." Tuvok's rich baritone thrilled through her as it never had before. She reached for his arm and grasped it to help him sit, all the while aware that Chakotay was frowning. So she reached and took his hand as well, attempting to bridge this gap before it became too large.

"On this ship, Chakotay is my first officer. Tuvok is my second, and my chief of security." She turned to Chakotay. "In this Tuvok's reality, I was murdered, Chakotay."

Chakotay involuntarily squeezed her hand, horror filling his eyes. "In a mutiny? But the Doctor said you weren't injured, Tuvok." His dark, intelligent eyes squinted as he pieced together the facts that he had and identified the gaps missing. "Not physically." Comprehension dawned, and his fingers loosened in Kathryn's grip.

"That is correct. In my reality, Kathryn and I were bonded. My own bond with my wife T'Pel was broken when we came here to the Delta Quadrant. Initially, I bonded with Kathryn for her protection, after the mutiny." Tuvok's toneless recital belied the emotional intensity she felt from him, radiating in waves from where her hand held his.

"Wait—when did the mutiny happen?" Chakotay crossed his arms over his chest, placing distance between himself and the story he didn't want to hear.

"At Sikaris." Tuvok sighed, and backpedaled a little. "In this reality, your captain made the correct choice in making you the first officer. In my reality, I fear she did not, in that she followed Starfleet protocol, and gave me that position. The Maquis component of the crew rebelled in less than a year."

They were all silent for a moment, and then Chakotay took a deep breath. "Alright, let's have the rest."

"My wife was planning to retake the ship, along with myself, Harry Kim, Lieutenant Stadi, Neelix, and a few others. However, their plans were betrayed before fruition, and I was taken captive and put off the ship. With the bond in place, when they murdered her, I would also die." He stared at the floor, and then rubbed his palm against hers, very gently. "I nearly did."

"Who damped the probe that we sent?"

"Harry. He didn't want our Voyager to know that you were here. He, of course, knew you were here very shortly after your arrival. Harry has been invaluable on the bridge, working to keep valuable information away from hands that might make it dangerous. He is brilliant. I fervently hope that he is also safe. Without him, we have no hope."

The unasked question hung in the air, until even the Doctor walked away, unable to bear the tension. Finally, Chakotay shook his head. "I don't want to know, but I must. Who murdered her?"

Tuvok looked at him calmly. "You did it yourself. For that I give you credit, for you have always loved her."

In the blinding silence that followed, the Doctor set down his tricorder. "Computer, deactivate Emergency Medical Holographic program." There were some things his programming just wasn't meant to witness.


	8. Eye of the Storm

**AN:** My mom had a good birthday—thank you all for your good wishes::hugs:: You are wonderful-- your reviews, connections, Vorik-love, and constant encouragement keep me going, and i really really really thank you. Without you, not only would this be less possible, but it would be less worth it. For you who review, who make this that much sweeter, an old Irish toast: May your home always be too small to hold all your friends. Slainte!

* * *

Feeling something cataclysmic about to breach between the two men, Kathryn stepped calmly in-between them, into the eye of the storm—the place she loved best, even thought she could have been spared this particular situation. Gently, she placed a hand on each, and while Chakotay took her touch calmly, as he always did, she felt Tuvok shudder minutely, still suffering from the wrenching damage of the broken bond. He had not had even a moment to grieve, she realized, and here she was, touching him as if she owned him. Her eyes jumped to his, stricken, but he took her hand in his, and pressed it against his breastbone. "It is well." 

She nodded, knowing very well that it wasn't. "How do you know that your Chakotay was the one who killed her, if you weren't on board?" Chakotay's chest rose and fell under her hand with sudden grief, and she glanced at him, telling him with her eyes, _This isn't, could never be you._

Tuvok didn't let go of her hand, and she didn't dare drop the connection, the physical bridge she had created between them. "After I woke in the shuttlecraft, I found all of the controls had been locked out with a security clearance that only Seska could have coded. She has always been brilliant with code." They all took a moment, each in their own way of knowing the Bajoran-turned-Cardassian woman, to agree with this assessment. "A transmission from the ship came through one of the locked out boards. It was Chakotay. He told me that he regretted this, because he loved Kathryn, and because we were both fine officers, and Voyager's chances for getting home were now considerably lessened. But mutiny was not to be tolerated, and the Captain saw nothing less than capital punishment as a deterrent. He promised me that it would be quick. And then…" Tuvok's eyes dropped to the floor, as if he were having trouble remembering what had come next. They stood in tense silence, not breathing, for an unbearable moment.

Finally, Kathryn broke. "And?"

But Tuvok fixed his dark, sorrowful eyes on at Chakotay. "His last words to me, I did not understand. I will relate them to you now." He took a deep breath, calculation warring with hope. "Hoze Ho Oh Ji."

Chakotay stared uncomprehending at Tuvok for a full two breaths, and then leapt across the gap between them, hardly mindful of Kathryn as he gathered the warrior Vulcan in a bearhug. Kathryn squeaked and Tuvok stiffened, before catching Chakotay around the shoulder. "What does it mean?" he demanded roughly.

"Blessingway. It means Blessingway. The path of healing. From the Navajo." Chakotay was shining, vindicated for something he had not even done. "It means there's a chance."

Kathryn was grinning, still caught in the embrace between the two men she loved best in the universe… at least in essence, she thought, as she caught a sideways glance at Tuvok's long braids and powerful arms. "Computer, activate Emergency Medical Holographic program."

The Doctor shimmered into existence, and looked nervously around the floor of his sickbay. He stepped hesitantly forward. "Please... tell me there's no   
medical emergency?"

* * *

Tuvok allowed his eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness, and his mind to adjust to just how far he had allowed himself to be taken into enemy territory. He had just permitted himself to be beamed to an unknown location by an unknown person based on the word of a person who he knew was perfectly capable of disrupting his telepathic capabilities. And yet… he trusted Stadi. He could hear her soft intake of breath, and feel the tendrils of her nervous fear, and he knew that this… that she was genuine. He also knew that his judgment was based not entirely on logic. This should have bothered him more than it did. 

But before he could analyze it further, his thoughts were scattered by a flicker of light; a particular shade of red that he knew with an intimacy that shocked him. The cascade of auburn hair that fell from the couch along the wall was unbraided, and his perfectly balanced and immaculately honed mind folded in on itself and refused, for several heartbeats, to admit the evidence of his eyes.

"I thought you would never arrive. I was beginning to worry." From the shadows stepped a man Tuvok was unfamiliar with, but he felt a rush of familiar warmth and gratitude from Stadi, so he chose to remain carefully guarded, but not obviously so.

"Doctor…why have you not set up a stasis field around Kathryn?" Stadi's voice was hushed, as if someone was listening. Or as if she felt it inappropriate to speak loudly within a tomb.

Tuvok divided his attention between the fallen woman /_his Captain… whom he had just this morning known he would see die, and to see it come true so quickly/ _on the couch and the unfamiliar man. He was dark-haired, and tall. If Tuvok remembered correctly, the doctor assigned to Voyager had been male. He wondered briefly if this was the same man.

"This is not… our Tuvok." The dark-haired man was staring at Tuvok, and Tuvok dragged his attention away from /_not_ _his/_ Kathryn, standing more fully at attention. "I am from an alternate reality."

To his surprise, the man's features fell in crushing grief. "This is disaster!" Stadi stirred beside him, and gripped the doctor's arm. "Doc, what's wrong? We'll figure this out somehow—even without Kathryn, we still have the nanites."

But the doctor gripped Stadi's arms with a strength that must have hurt her, even though she didn't wince. "No, you don't understand. She's not dead, Stadi-not _yet_! But without her husband, we have no chance of bringing her back!"


	9. Walking the Line

**AN: **Okay—things are really rolling now. As I said in profile, chapters might be a little slower as life is a bit mucky right now, but to make up for it, this one's a little longer than usual. And just in case you're curious but too lazy to plug it into google… nah… I'm gonna make you look it up. All my love… and leeward!

* * *

Tuvok could feel his heart beating within his chest. This would not be unusual, except that at the doctor's pronouncement, his heart had announced every beat with a thud of pain. The situation at once became wrenchingly clear. Somehow, Chakotay had not been able to follow through with the murder of his rightful captain, and had instead left her in the care of the ship's doctor. But this Kathryn was still dying; somehow the link between her and her husband had been severed abruptly… possibly by his crossing into the alternate universe. And Tuvok was here now. He might be able to save her. But he would then be sacrificing even the façade of the bond he still maintained with T'Pel, his wife of seventy years. He knew that he could not let this Kathryn die, any more than he could allow the Kathryn of his own reality to die, if he could possibly save her. He did not know if T'Pel would understand. He was absolutely certain that she would not understand how he had come to care for Kathryn so deeply that his melding with her could save her life. 

But the time for rationalization and regret was past. He slipped from Stadi's side and knelt by the couch in the darkness. "I will do this."

The doctor shook his head emphatically, his tone terse. "You aren't married to her. Chakotay actually did kill her, with a cortical defibrillator … I arrived in time to revive her, when he commed me. Her bond with Tuvok was severed. I have no idea what it did to her mind."

Tuvok looked at him steadily, calmly, as if the next words out of his mouth weren't going to tear his neatly ordered universe into tiny little shreds. "Nevertheless, I love her." And without waiting for the consent of the universe, he placed his fingertips on her pale, cool face, and sank into her darkness.

He recognized the house from her stories even though he had never visited. A vast, sprawling farmhouse, it sat on what might have once been beautiful farmland in the Indiana countryside. Tuvok knew from her tales of home that she treasured her time here, even thought she had not as a child appreciated growing up in the traditionalist way. But this was not the flower-saturated spring fields he might have expected from her glowing descriptions. In this place, it was bleak winter. Icy winds bit through his uniform, and the thin limbs of trees lashed against his face.

"Kathryn!" he called, and the wind whistled back. He began to walk towards the house, passing a broken swing and cresting through a slashing whirl of dry leaves. Somewhere a shutter slammed off its hinges. As he walked up the porch steps, he noted that they were brittle and rocked a little, the nails loose in the split, dry wood. On opening the door, the wind seemed to howl even louder, but in the front room, there was no sign of her.

Instead, desolation met his eyes. Neglect ruled this home. Furniture was broken and washed with rain and exposed to the raw winds. The plaster on the walls was peeled and broken, and paint clung in fragments and lay in piles of chips on the floor. Tuvok knew this was indicative of her despair, and although he recognized that the breaking of a Vulcan marriage bond was not definitely fatal to humans, clearly this woman was ready to die. Betrayed and desolate, she believed that she had nothing to live for. He begged to differ. He stilled his mind, and refused to play her game of hide and seek any longer. "Kathryn, come out. I am here."

For a long moment, silence. And then, "Who are you?" Her tremulous voice sent thready chills down his shoulders and back. He turned, and there she stood in a doorway, wraithlike, her long hair loose and hanging down over her shoulders. Her eyes and cheeks were hollow and her lips cracked and dry. Even so, to him, she had rarely looked more beautiful. But he did not go to her right at that moment, because she did not welcome him. "You are not my husband."

To this clear statement of fact he had no ready reply. He chose stark truth, because this was Kathryn. "I am not. He and I… we took each other's place in alternate universes. I assume that is why you can no longer feel him."

She cocked her frail head at him, but there was no frailty in her narrowed grey eyes. He knew that look; it customarily meant that someone hadn't considered a possibility so obvious that it didn't even bear mentioning. "You don't know," she stated. "I get nervous when Vulcans make assumptions. Especially you."

He straightened unconsciously under that gaze, knowing even as he did so that she would not have expected him to. But he was still responding to the commander, rather than the woman. "You can be assured that I would not make one if it did not take into account all of the facts at my disposal."

She pondered that for a moment. "You are so much colder than my Tuvok was. Do you not love your Kathryn like he loved me?"

Her question cut him to the quick. Within the meld, within the devastated heart-space of this fragile and strong woman whom he trying to save, he faltered. The membranes of his nasal passages and around his tear-ducts stung, and his throat closed so that he could not speak. Immediately, she sensed his overpowering grief, and her warmth flooded into him, in a connection so immediate and intimate that he could not countenance it. Tuvok fell to his knees. From somewhere, sunlight flooded the room. For Kathryn Janeway, mutinied captain of the USS Voyager, she had just found her first reason to continue living.

* * *

The three strange bedfellows left the relieved Doctor humming an aria in Sickbay and strode towards engineering. At first, the warrior-like Tuvok explained in terse detail the situation as it stood on his Voyager as he had left it, and Kathryn and Chakotay said little. The simple brilliance of the plan was a little chilling to both of them, and to know that they could have been as easily subsumed was not easy to stomach… literally, taking into account what Tuvok had related to them. Kathryn especially was reminded how very little actually stood between her control of the ship in the vast darkness that was the Delta Quadrant and total chaos. Seska had been reduced to controlling the ship by threats and by force. What a very fine line they walked. Tuvok seemed to know her thoughts, and as they waited for the turbolift, he reached up with a tenderness born from years of practice and stroked his thumb lightly across her cheek. "Worry not, aduna. Your crew follows you out of love, not fear. You will not lose them now." 

Chakotay visibly stiffened beside them, but she closed her eyes, savoring the stolen moment. Out of time, out of place they were. With his fingertip touching her cheek, she could feel the flickering of the meld-touch, waiting just outside her conscious mind. And then he lowered his hand, and the lift doors opened. She couldn't suppress a small sigh, but that was all she was allowed. He was not hers. The Tuvok that belonged to this universe still hadn't made up his mind, and he would have to live with whatever choice they made, regardless. If he came back. _When_ he came back, dammit.

Chakotay's gentle, even voice intruded on her troubled thoughts. "Are you certain that you can get back?"

"No. That is why we must speak to your Harry Kim. I presume he has been scanning the shuttle and the rift?"

Kathryn slapped her badge. "Janeway to Kim."

"Yes, Captain." Harry always acknowledged her hails smartly, as if he were waiting to pounce on the commbadge. She smiled.

"Have you figured out what happened with the shuttle?"

"Yes, ma'am. I believe so." He had that tone to his voice that she knew meant that he knew exactly what he happened, but he didn't quite believe it, despite all assurances to the contrary. She nodded.

"Meet us in Engineering. On the double, Mr. Kim."

"Aye, aye, Captain." He would run all the way.

When Harry reached Engineering, he flew through the doors and prepared to give his findings to his captain, when he caught sight of Tuvok, and every equation flew right out of his head. All he could think to say was, "I guess you found the intruder, Captain?"

Kathryn raised an eyebrow at him, mirrored perfectly by the dangerous-looking Vulcan at her shoulder. If Chakotay hadn't been first officer, he would have grinned at Harry's sudden need to study the floor. But he was first officer, so he clapped Harry on the shoulder. "Harry, this is Tuvok from the alternate Voyager."

Harry swallowed. "Wow," he whispered.

"No kidding," Chakotay murmured back.

Kathryn frowned at them both. "Gentlemen, if we could return to the question at hand?"

Harry flushed, his golden skin turning a delicate shade of peach. "Yes, Captain. There is a subspace resonance field around the shuttle, created to mimic the rift and weaken space in a local area around the craft. It's deliberate. Incredibly complex." He shook his head.

"What?" Kathryn knew there was something else. Harry looked up at her, frowning.

"Apparently, my double on the other ship created it. I found a message, coded to my specs, within the schema of the field, telling me how to recreate it. Apparently, my other self didn't want to take the risk that I wouldn't be capable of doing it." He shrugged, chagrin mixed with admiration. "It's very impressive. We need to switch the shuttlecraft back. I just hope that Tuvok…_our_ Tuvok will be on the shuttle when we do. He's given me a time. Nineteen hundred hours."

Kathryn raised her eyebrows. It was a little past seventeen hundred now. "Good work, Harry." She smiled at him, and then paused. "How did you know it was a message for you?"

He smiled then, unaccountably handsome within his element. "It was pieced together from clarinet solos." And then he turned and walked out, already busy with the calculations. She took a long moment to wonder why he was still at the rank of Ensign. Something should be done about that.

Tuvok smiled privately at her. "On our ship, he is a Lieutenant."


	10. The Presence of Heat

**AN:** I have been so thrilled with the responses to Harry Kim that I wanted to take a moment to beg you to write stories about him. He is truly an unsung hero, as well as a complete doll—Harry has the unenviable position of always being the straight man. He deserves to be the hero. He's a hero in this story. Wee-me, he might well be _the_ hero in this story—I haven't written that far ;). Hugs to you all for your… um… patience ::grins:: and unbridled enthusiasm. You keep me going during a very difficult time. Thank you. Onward!

**PS: **picasaweb dot google dot com bkslsh Llewfox bkslsh JustTheBoysPlease bkslsh photo#5029361068386363298 for those of you who asked what i thought this mirror!Tuvok might look like. I am open to suggestions!

* * *

He was no longer cold. Why he noticed this first, he was not certain. But it was more than just the absence of physical cold, or the presence of heat. Within the meld, of course, physical sensations were only the embodiment of the psychological state of the individual. But this was different—unlike anything he had ever felt before. He turned to his companion. "I cannot qualify this sensation." 

She smiled, and the feeling of warmth within his boundaries of self intensified. Her hand stroked across his short-cropped hair and down the back of his neck, lighting neural centers that reminded him, alarmingly, of the out-of-control sensation that accompanied pon farr. But it was not that. Gentle and deep, it did not rage in a conflagration that tore down his mental barriers. This heat co-existed within him, peacefully. He smiled back, and was not threatened by it. She took his face in her hands. "You do love me."

"That was never in question." He quirked an eyebrow at her. "You simply had different expectations."

"I had a right to. You are the same man, after all." She was not being completely serious, and he caught the sparkle in her eye.

"We love the same woman," he allowed. For a long moment, they existed together, twined in luxurious abandon. He knew her, and she him, the way that husbands knew wives, and lovers knew each others minds and hearts. It would be their only moment. All too soon, it was gone. "You will be well," Tuvok whispered reluctantly. Kathryn nodded slowly. It was time.

He broke the meld and blinked into the eyes of the anxious doctor. "Is she alright?"

Tuvok acknowledged him with narrowed eyes, even in the dim light. "She will live."

In answer, Kathryn gave a weak groan beside him. "Status."

Lieutenant Stadi kneeled next to them as the doctor waved a tricorder over both Tuvok and Kathryn. "We're still on the bridge. I don't know about the pulse emitter, but if Torres betrayed you, we can be pretty certain it's been disabled."

"What about our other people in Engineering?" Her voice was gaining strength. The doctor injected her with something, and she managed to sit up with Tuvok's help. He could feel her ribs jutting from under her thin coveralls, and she was painfully light, but she was alive. The doctor and Stadi glanced at each other, and then at Kathryn.

"Unknown. But we are still in proximity of the rift. The engines are offline. We don't know why." the doctor finally answered, clearly unhappy with half an answer. She nodded tersely.

All business, she moved weakly upward. "Help me up. Get Tuvok back to the shuttle. If there is any chance of getting my husband back, we need him. And I am not ready to call it a day just yet." Stadi smiled, relieved, and saluted her, and then turned expectantly to Tuvok. He frowned.

"You may yet require my services, Kathryn." The truth was that he did not want to go without seeing this through. He did not want to go without knowing if she succeeded. And as soon as she looked up at him, she felt it, too. But he helped her to stand, because she was always his captain, regardless of universe.

She took his hand and led them to a semi-private corner, and when she spoke, it was for him alone. "I live for two things: to see my husband again, and to hold this ship under the command of its faithful officers." She grasped his neck with small, powerful hands. "But remember, it was for you, Tuvok from another place, that I chose to turn away from death. Always remember that." He was caught up in her eyes, steady and compelling, and the warmth that had bloomed between them within the meld flickered into reality again. Physical distance seemed such an inconsequential detail that it didn't really register that she was kissing him until he kissed her back.

His first instinct was to pull away. In a universe of highly diverse species, Vulcans were among the most private, and Stadi was Betazoid, if not standing five feet away. But his second instinct almost immediately subsumed his first, and he was lost in the reality of what had been a not-quite-forgotten dream. Her mind washed into his, and he sensed no confusion as to his identity. She was not pretending that he was her lost husband—the sensations of newness pervaded them both as she explored him gently, briefly… longingly. With startling clarity, as he tugged tenderly on her lower lip with his teeth, he thought, _I want this._

Kathryn parted from him regretfully, and studied him thoughtfully. "Then go and see if she will have you, while you are both alive and able." She kissed his cheek one last time, and he felt her small hand press against his breast. "One. Shuttle," she whispered, and stepped out of his arms. He glanced down to see that she had pressed another commbadge to his uniform. Just like his Kathryn not to say goodbye. His last image of her was of calm strength, with an impish smile playing about her lips. He returned it with wry acknowledgement, and kept his regret private. That, she did not need to see.

* * *

"Why in all seven Hells are we still here, B'Elanna?" Captain Seska had not stopped pacing since she had first given the command to leave the rift, and had been told that the engines were offline. All of them. Lieutenant Torres voice came through the comm system with a surly edge. 

"Captain, it's something to do with the integrity of the subspace layers in this damn area of space. The swiss-cheese subspace field opened itself right inside the warp core—if we move, there's a probability we'll have a breach."

The captain snarled, her brow ridges flushed with ire. "How probable?"

"Vorik calculated it at eighty-seven point six percent. We're working on a way to isolate the subspace field, but this is something entirely new. Right now we have to remain perfectly still." Torres sounded like she would rather challenge the subspace breach to hand-to-hand combat. Seska resumed pacing. Chakotay raised a calm eye to her.

"If you had Carey on it, he might be able to help."

"Carey's a traitor." She hardly even paused to consider the man sitting in the commander's chair, whom she had once loved.

"Carey's a Starfleet officer. You're the traitor, Seska." But it was an old argument, and he said it without conviction. She scowled at him. She knew, intellectually, that her injustice against Carey had been the motivation for the attempted mutiny. But it was finished, as far as she was concerned, as soon as she could put this patch of space behind them.

"Chak, you really need to get the hell off my bridge." Chakotay glanced around him, at Harry Kim at Ops who looked blankly back, determined not to take sides in a war he had lost when Janeway had lost control of the ship at Sikaris. At the console where Tuvok normally stood, now taken by Ayala, he knew he would get no support. Had Stadi been there, she would have bolstered him. But she wasn't. Where the hell was she, anyway? As he turned to go, Seska stepped in front of him. "Oh, and by the way?" She held out her hand, and for a moment, a soft sadness flickered in the depth of her eyes. "I don't speak Navajo. But my computer does." She tapped his commbadge. "Brig." Chakotay looked desperately at Harry, but he realized he had been wrong about the blankness in the young lieutenant's eyes. What he saw there when Harry beamed him directly off the bridge was nothing but cold, searing hate.

Five seconds later, he let out a breath, counting himself lucky that he had materialized within four walls, and not into the vacuum of space. But then, within a second's adjustment, he realized that he wasn't in the brig at all, but on a shuttle. And the prickles on the back of his neck alerted him that he wasn't alone.

"Commander. You are the last person I had wished to see."

Chakotay's blood froze like ice.


	11. Acceptable Risk

**AN: **So i'm sorry (a little) about the cliffie... it is _not_ resolved in this chapter. ::ducks:: But i promise-- this chapter contains the setting of the very last domino. And a little bit of love. Written to _Speeding Cars _by Imogen Heap and the soundtrack to Pan's Labyrinth. I am now broadening my fic plea to one-shot Harry and one-shot Vorik fics. It was something Wee-me said about Vorik-spotting that just made me laugh... I know, it doesn't take much. To Le'letha-- today, _Forward_!

* * *

B'Elanna looked up from her station and swallowed. Twice. And then rethought everything she had ever thought about Vulcans in general, and Tuvok in particular. Chakotay took one look at her and rolled his eyes, as if to say he had had about enough of _that_ particular reaction. Tuvok fixed the chief engineer with a kind look that should have sent warning prickles up her spine, but instead spread a sweet smile over her normally stern features. Kathryn stifled a smile. If only _her_ Tuvok could learn how powerful charm could be in winning people over… but then he wouldn't be her Tuvok. 

"B'Elanna." His deep voice flavored her name with unquestionable affection. She was enchanted.

"Tuvok. You do share the same name with our security chief?" Kathryn would have gaped had she not had iron control over her reactions. B'Elanna was _flirting. _With a _Vulcan_. She looked unobtrusively around for Vorik, but the young engineer was nowhere in sight. Definitely for the best—the poor man had been nursing a crush on Torres since before the unfortunate incident with the pon farr. Some might think that such things were beneath a ship's captain to know, but Kathryn was no ordinary captain, and this was no ordinary ship. Especially now.

He nodded to her query, his eyes never leaving her, and Kathryn's eyes narrowed suspiciously. Gratuitous flirting was one thing in a part-human, part-Klingon, but she didn't care what universe_ he_ came from—Vulcans were Vulcans. He wanted something. "What's on your mind, Tuvok?"

A small smile graced his lips as he turned to her. "I request permission of the both of you to take B'Elanna with me when I return to my ship. I require her expertise to complete our takeover of the ship from Seska." He paused for a moment, eyeing her, before adding, "The transfer is reversible, from what Harry understands."

At this, B'Elanna's brow furrowed. "I hate to ask, but she either died or betrayed you—which one was it?"

"The latter." Tuvok frowned slightly. "But I believe that there were extenuating circumstances. Up to the end, your counterpart helped us plan the entire takeover. I would like to hear from her before I come to a conclusion."

Kathryn held up her hand. "I need more reassurance from Harry before I would risk B'Elanna like that. Suppose the subspace fabric disintegrated, or the rift closed?" She held Tuvok with her gaze, and for a moment, they were effectively isolated. "I want you to get your ship back, but I need mine too."

He stepped closer to her, and the rest of the deck receded. Her careful control was steady, but as thin as an onion skin, and they both knew it. His katra vibrated within her, and their mind link was still so recent as to carry with it the salt taste of ocean air, and the hot press of his body against hers. "My ship _is_ your ship, Kathryn."

She considered him thoughtfully. "Show me that B'Elanna will be safe, and I'll let her make up her own mind."

"If the captain allows me to go, I'm yours." Kathryn grinned at her then, and she grinned back, and glanced at the floor. Chakotay sighed ruefully. A commbadge chirped.

"Kim to Janeway. I have something I'd like to show you."

She tapped her badge. "Meet me in the officer's lounge in five."

"Aye, Captain. Kim out." She nodded.

"You're all with me. Let's see what Mr. Kim has culled from his clarinet solos." She started toward the lift, with Tuvok right behind her, his arm curled protectively around her hip. B'Elanna fell in with Chakotay, her eyes wide. Chakotay looked at her and shook his head.

She mouthed, "_Wow!"_

"No kidding," he murmured disconsolately.

* * *

"From what I understand, my counterpart was able to replicate the rift, but control the parameters." Harry flushed proudly. "He's going to create another replicated rift at nineteen hours." He had presented his captain with the specs, and she had not been able to refute the simple brilliance of the calculations. While it didn't allow them to create a rift, it did allow them to use an existing rift to create windows wherever they liked. As long as the rift itself remained stable, then they should be able to use Harry's window to transfer crew safely. 

"What's the catch?" She said this with a certain amount of softness, not wanting to steal his moment of satisfaction. But they all needed to know the risks. He sobered.

"If the rift closes, we lose our ability to create windows. This formula uses the echoes of the subspace frequency that the rift vibrates on. Once it's gone, it's gone. And we can't send more mass than we take in—the balance has to be maintained between the two universes."

Kathryn frowned. That pretty much nixed the plan to send B'Elanna. "Is there any way to communicate with the shuttle during the transfer?"

Harry's eyes grew wide, but then he immediately pursed his brow in thought. "I don't see why not. We use subspace communication. If Tuvok is on the shuttle, we might be able to get a message to him."

She nodded decisively. "Make it definite, Harry. Tuvok, get ready to transport. B'Elanna, be ready. You might get your chance. Be in Transporter Room One at eighteen hundred and fifty hours. Harry, the rest is up to you."

He grinned, pleased at the prospect of not just reporting on what his counterpart had accomplished. "Aye, Captain."

"Dismissed." They all stood. Kathryn turned to Tuvok and nodded. "You were right after all. It is my ship."

He gazed at her softly for a moment. "It has been an honor to know you."

A spike of pain lanced through her heart. "My life is also richer for having known you."

The room cleared out hurriedly. A small part of her recognized the immense irony of this meeting—that just this morning she had stood in this same place and confessed her attraction to her chief of security. Had she known then what she did now, she would have just cleared off a space on the conference table and made love to him right then and there, drowning any protest he might have made in a flood of kisses until he surrendered to the inevitable. But now, with this man, there was no need for confessions. There would be no lovemaking. And if she could help it, there would be no goodbye. She hated goodbyes.

Instead of speaking, he leaned down and kissed her. Instantly, the mindtouch reconnected them. Kissing a touch telepath was like nothing she had ever experienced. His heat surged through her, and with it, everything he sensed and felt and thought right at that moment—his immense respect for her in the few moments he had known her, and his gratitude that she had saved his life, the terrible sorrow of his loss still a raw wound, and the steady certainty that he would finish the work that his wife had begun, and get them home. And the kiss… his mouth on hers, and rushing heat, her small body in his arms, and a desire that could not be met… all she could do was hang on to him when her knees gave out, and even then he was there a moment before her. She bit his lip gently, and he smiled into her. "I know you hate goodbyes."

For the first time in longer than she could remember, Kathryn Janeway was speechless. Tuvok kissed her forehead, and the lingering love in his thoughts was with her long after he walked though the conference room door.


	12. Game of Change

**AN: **Thank you for your patience—I haven't had a lot of access to the 'puter for the past few days, but all is well now. Here we go… please notice the Vulcans and candlelight reference—those of you keeping track… and Maegan, this is only _half_ of the Vorik story. ::tips the first domino::

* * *

Harry Kim knew what to look for, and when it began, he was waiting for it. He didn't even pause to notify his captain, so brief was the window. "Voyager Janeway to Commander Tuvok. How many on board?" She nodded from her command chair, indicating that he should continue. This was his show, and they had all rehearsed their parts on this end. 

"Two, including myself," came the mostly unruffled reply through short bursts of static.

"Kim to Transporter Room One. Two to beam to shuttle immediately."

A slight pause, and then, "Lieutenant Torres and… Commander Tuvok have beamed to the shuttle."

"Understood. Kim out." Harry turned to his captain, his face a study in pure and intense concentration. "The switch is happening, Captain." She nodded, watching onscreen. They had all seen the vids of the first shuttle switch after the fact, and now they could watch it live. It was remarkably unspectacular. Blink and you missed it, as her sister would have said. Of course, Phoebe had always been hard to impress when it came to the minutia of science. Ever since she had heard Tuvok's voice, she had felt a weight lifted, but now that he was back on this side, a different anxiety took the place of her concern.

"Commander Tuvok requesting permission to beam aboard."

"Hello, Tuvok." Kathryn tilted her head curiously at the audio-only transmission. "You're going to have to do better than that. Who's your passenger?"

There was a very slight pause. Her anxiety increased tenfold. "It is Chakotay."

"Visual, please." He was hiding something. She was pretty certain she knew what it was. Beside her, she could feel Chakotay's tension bristle outward. She was pretty certain he knew what it was, as well. Dutifully, the visual transmission flickered on.

The alternate Chakotay lay facedown on the floor of the shuttle. Tuvok had a long bloody slice across his cheek which he had staunched with a piece of grey cloth—probably from his uniform. His expression was calm, but Kathryn had seen that look in his eyes once or twice before. He raised an eyebrow. She nodded. But for the rest of the bridge, he elaborated, "I felt the need to subdue him. He is unconscious and bound." And he would say no more in the too-public forum of the bridge comm. Kathryn nodded to Kim.

"Beam him directly to sickbay."

Chakotay caught her arm as she turned toward the turbolift. "Permission to beam aboard the shuttle and speak with my counterpart?" His expression was troubled, but his eyes were clear. She took his arm.

"Why, Chakotay?"

He thought about his phrasing rather than his reasons. "I want to know what happened to him, to make him what he was."

She pulled him close. "What if you don't like what you find?"

He gave her his wry half-smile. "To me, that's better than not knowing."

She studied him for a moment, and then nodded. "Come with me to sickbay then, before you beam over. I want to make certain I get the right one back!"

* * *

Tuvok and B'Elanna made their way down the well-lit corridor, B'Elanna thinking the entire time how frightening it would be to have an Operations officer as brilliant as Harry on the side of a mutiny. He could cover the tracks of a transport, and was even, somehow, preventing the ship from moving from this exact location. They had beamed in silently—Stadi was back up on the bridge and the ship was on lockdown. Seska was canvassing for intruders, but so far, they had met no security officers who were not completely loyal to Tuvok. He put his hand on her shoulder and they paused in an alcove. 

"You must get down to Engineering. Reinitialize the phasic field that Torres has disabled. Ensign Vorik might be able to help you—he is, or was Kathryn's ally. And he is in love with Lieutenant Torres, though she does not regard him."

B'Elanna smiled sadly. "Some things don't change."

Something in her tone must have alerted him, because he tilted his head, and then lifted her chin gently with a fingertip. "That is not the same as saying that they _cannot_." He caught her gaze for a moment longer, and then, with the weight of her mission fully on her shoulders, he left her there, moving lithely down the corridor in pursuit of his own piece of the whole. She slipped a panel out of the wall thoughtfully, and climbed into the Jeffries tubes with her thoughts unsettled. There was too much to be done, and she had not even the slightest idea how to begin with any of it.

* * *

Ten minutes of tortured climbing later, B'Elanna crawled out of a hatch into a dark corner where no one ever worked in Engineering. Her luck happened to be Klingon, and someone was there—Vorik, working quietly. He glanced up, and his eyes widened. She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head at him, imploring him to understand and not cry out. How much did he know? Was he still one of the white hats? Did Vulcans even wear hats? 

He blinked at her, and then glanced at Lieutenant Torres, and for a long moment, B'Elanna didn't move, not even to stare at her own counterpart, who was moving around Engineering like a barely controlled storm. Then, without looking back, he returned to his work like nothing had happened.

For a moment, she allowed herself to feel relief. But it wasn't enough to be undetected. She needed Vorik, and dammit, he was going to help her, whether he wanted to or not.

She continued to stare at him, and he glanced back at her, his forehead creased as he realized that more was expected of him, and a little scowl appeared between his dark eyes. B'Elanna had to stifle a smile, and she wasn't entirely successful. How often had she seen him do that? How often had she been the cause? Even comprehending her gentle amusement at their very real danger, he worked his way over at a crawling pace, until he was at the station right next to hers, and he reached out and set his hand down on the console. For a moment, she didn't understand. Then her brain caught up. She touched his hand.

Thoughts leapt jarringly from the imperfect telepathic contact. She thought one thought. _Immobilize her. Immobilize her_. His precise and ordered mind seemed to blur when it neared the contact point that was her, as if his thoughts lost cohesion and became unfocused. But he nodded. An alarm blared. _That's Tuvok, clearing Engineering_, she thought. All non-essential personnel. Another alarm. Torres looked up, an angry snarl on her face. The years without the kind intervention of Janeway had not been kind to her. She was more Klingon than human now—unapproachable and severe. She started over toward Vorik. "You too, Vorik." He turned neatly.

"Yes, sir." But not neatly enough. She saw B'Elanna behind the console and her eyes grew wide. With superhuman speed, Vorik reached up with surgical precision and tagged her with a nerve pinch, dropping her to the floor with a squawk of protest. B'Elanna stood, and then immediately felt awkward.

"Well. Thank you." He was, after all, not _her _Vorik. Not that Vorik belonged to her, at all. But this man had just risked his life for her. That said a great deal.

He gazed at her for a long moment, dark eyes focused in an uncommonly handsome face. What was it with Vulcans on this ship? "You are B'Elanna."

She eyed him, wondering if he had come slightly unhinged on this more than slightly crazy starship. "I am."

He reached out to brush a wisp of hair from her neck, and she felt a hot flush trail along her skin where his fingers had touched her. Touch telepath… the possibilities suddenly sprang to life in vivid detail in a small but rebellious piece of her mind. "You are what she could have been… had Kathryn Janeway held her rightful place."

"What she still can be," she gently reminded him.

"Kathryn Janeway is dead." Grief flickered over his face like candlelight.

"No. She is alive. Tuvok reached her in time." B'Elanna only hoped this was true. It had to be. She willed it to be true. And as the hope blossomed over the young Vulcan's face, she knew that she would do anything in her power to make it so, for him, right at that moment. "We have to finish this, Vorik. Are you going to help me or not?"

He nodded, and then glanced down at Torres, unconscious on the floor. Within moments, she was bound with B'Elanna's uniform jacket, and B'Elanna and Vorik were working to restore the phasic pulse generator. As they worked, Vorik outlined the stark simplicity of the mutiny. The phasic pulse was actually an activation switch for the nanites that the command crew, sans Harry and a few others, had been ingesting for the last few days, courtesy of Neelix and a rather fine roast that he had brought on board at Seska's command and prepared for her staff. It had been a feast, and then soup, and Harry had provided the piec'de resistance—nanites that would effectively shut down the voluntary nervous system once they were activated. In one fell swoop, Seska and her entire loyal staff would be under the care of the ship's doctor, and the ship would be back in the capable hands of the one she belonged to.

Listening, B'Elanna got chills. She had understood the basics, but the simple elegance, as outlined by Vorik as they reinitialized the ship-wide command sequence that Torres had disabled, was deeply frightening. She found herself pausing over a command, and Vorik reached and took her hand. Gentle calm washed over her, and she allowed it.

"You are thinking that it is too simple, aren't you?" Her brow creased, and she simply nodded, too troubled to speak. He allowed her a moment, and then released her hand. "A ship is a body. A captain is its heart. If the heart is diseased, a new heart must be found, and the old taken out. This is logical."

B'Elanna shook her head. "I don't know much about logic, Vorik."

He turned to her fully, then, and took her by the shoulders. "Then do you understand love, B'Elanna? The love that Kathryn Janeway has for this ship and its crew?" His intensity was almost painful, and she reached up and took his face in her hands.

"I just needed to know why you were in this, Vorik." She felt him pull back, hurt, as he tugged away from her.

"Have I satisfied your demands as to my loyalty, then, B'Elanna?" But what he really thought, she caught in the last flicker before he separated himself from her. _Some things do not change._

"I'm sorry, Vorik. I don't know what's going on here. Forgive me?"

"Of course. We should continue." He was locked up tight. She did not pursue it, though she cursed herself inwardly for a fool.

Some things were going to change.


	13. Sympathy for the Devil

**AN: **This is _the chapter that did not want to be written_. Events conspired. And there was some Irish involved. And real pink confetti! Did i mention that Wee-me sent me real pink confetti? Author-sister-- you are the best! SO it's done—and came out completely different from what was written down in my notebook. ::does little happy dance gingerly on injured hip:: Onward!!

* * *

Chakotay beamed in to the darkened shuttle with the words of caution from his captain still ringing in his ears and a hypospray clutched in his right hand. Tuvok's injury had been a deep knife cut that had slashed right across his cheek, cutting to the bone at the height. Chakotay, the Doctor, and Kathryn had both noted with varying levels of interest that it was in the same place as Tuvok's counterpart's scar had been. Tuvok had only said that he had attempted to engage the man in questioning, and had been attacked, and had subdued him. As to why he had been beamed out on the shuttle, that was anybody's guess, but Tuvok did mention that he had appeared both surprised and frightened. So Chakotay had secured what he needed, and had left his captain and Tuvok in a very pregnant silence that even had the Doctor nervous, humming loudly and puttering about in a very atypical manner. 

There were some things that _he_ didn't want to have to know.

And so he had beamed over to the shuttle, to understand the very thing that he couldn't begin to comprehend—how anyone with his genetic makeup could have become a murderer.

As he kneeled over the still form of his counterpart, a thread of doubt trickled icily through him. Tuvok had assured him calmly that he had only 'subdued' him, but the Vulcan had been very, very angry. Emotionless Vulcans, his ass. He would never make that mistake again. But as the hypospray hissed into his counterpart's neck, the man stirred reassuringly. Or not, Chakotay thought, as his grip tightened on his phaser. The man who was and was not him shook his head, tensed, and then peered upward. Chakotay almost dropped his phaser in shock as their eyes locked, and he cursed the Vulcan—_both _of them—for the tiny, insignificant detail that had been left out of every debriefing, and would have gone a long way to explaining everything, had anyone thought it worth mentioning.

This Chakotay had no tattoo above his eye.

The tanned skin of his forehead was a blank slate, unmarked by the conviction and spiritual identity that had carried Chakotay through in times marked by grief and a near-certainly that there was no way home. He realized that his double was staring at him with something akin to scorn, and took a moment to process, allowing the man on the floor to speak first.

"You actually believe in that nonsense?"

Chakotay had to clear his throat. "At least I believe in something."

"Feathers and daydreams." The scorn was unmistakable now.

"Maybe." Chakotay could afford to be noncommittal-- he was holding the phaser. "Why did you attack Tuvok?"

After a long silence, the other man answered sullenly, "He attacked first."

"I doubt that." To himself, Chakotay added, _if that were true, you'd be dead._

"Vulcans are treacherous," the dark likeness continued. "Stab you in the back, steal the woman you love…"

Chakotay grimaced. "Is this about Kathryn?"

"Isn't everything?" For the first time, the broken man relaxed. His eyes, however, looked haunted. "She rejected me, I rejected her. What more is there?"

Chakotay could hardly believe what he was hearing. Was this even possible? He felt sick. "You mean besides the ship, and her crew? And your promise to get them home?"

"Seska is more efficient. She knows how to make alliances…" He trailed off, the bitterness apparent to them both. In his silence, Chakotay read the entire story of what could have happened had they taken the path of least resistance. Inwardly, he humbly thanked his captain for being the iron wall that she was. Outwardly, he tried to maintain a calm façade.

"Is this an example of her efficiency? Beaming you out here?"

For a moment, his counterpart looked confused. "No… Ensign Kin was ordered to transport me to the brig. Instead he put me here. Actually, I expected him to beam me out into space."

Noncommittal was even less of an effort now—Chakotay's advance knowledge of Harry's cooperation with the mutiny allowed him the barest shift of an eyebrow. He allowed his double to slowly come to his own conclusions, which he did with rapid speed. At least his brain was still working.

Slowly the pieces fell into place. His counterpart voiced them as they came. "Harry is with the mutiny. And we're here at the rift for a reason. And there is a lot that Seska doesn't know."

Chakotay nodded. "The question is, what are you going to do about it?"

A long silence followed that. Then, "Did Kathryn survive?"

"I don't know." Cold rage bubbled up, but Chakotay tamped it down. This was not the time nor place. Besides, Tuvok had already beaten him unconscious once. He took some small satisfaction in that.

The other man nodded. "If she did, I will submit myself to her judgment, then. If she puts me off on the next gas giant, it's more than I deserve."

Chakotay tended to agree. But he was also mildly surprised. "Just like that?"

His counterpart studied him for a moment, and then seemed to come to a decision. "When I was fifteen, I joined Starfleet against my father's wishes. While I was flying around the galaxy, he was murdered by the Cardassians. Sound familiar? He was so certain that his beliefs were the right ones—that they would keep him safe." He scowled, but his eyes were full of tears. "He was an old fool. I switched sides and fought for the Maquis, and it didn't make a damn bit of difference. I have an unerring instinct for choosing the losing side." He shrugged massive shoulders. "Why shouldn't I let someone with better judgment choose my next path?"

Chakotay shook his head. "With an attitude like that, she will throw you off." His mouth curled up in a tiny smile. Surprisingly, his double was a perfect mirror.

"What do you suggest, then?" A challenge flared in eyes so familiar, and so alien.

But Chakotay could only shake his head. "To be your own man." He stood. "We'll be sending you back you your own ship in two hours. Harry's keeping an eye on the shuttle." For a moment he stood, looking thoughtfully at his counterpart.

"Did you find what you came here for?" All traces of scorn were gone, replaced with a curious blankness. Chakotay recognized that tone extremely well. He shook his head.

"I came here to make sure you were still alive." He tapped his commbadge. The subdermal transporter beacon hummed under the skin of his shoulder—Kathryn's safety. "One to beam back to Voyager. Travel well, Chakotay."

The other man stood but said nothing-- his expression a perfect mask as Chakotay faded out of existence. As the transporter platform came into view around him, he frowned moodily. Why did Kathryn always have to be right?


	14. Stand

**AN:** I was thinking… wow! This went really fast! And then I realized that no, that's how dominoes go. Hours of painstaking setup, and then a lightning fast delivery. This is how they fall.

* * *

Tuvok prowled down the corridor, panther-like and watchful, his braids whispering against his bare arms. He could not feel his Kathryn, but that meant nothing. He told himself it meant nothing. All that mattered was getting to the bridge now. There was no grief. Grief did not exist. 

A soft sound reached his ear, and he turned to it, ready for death or killing—whichever was necessary. The welcome sight of the ship's doctor, Fitzgerald, looking more than a little astonished, entered his line of sight. Tuvok dropped into the alcove like a shadow, and Fitzgerald gripped his shoulder. "I can hardly believe it, but you're well."

Tuvok's heart thundered as he took in the doctor's appearance. Even with the EMH taking some of the burden, being the only medical doctor out this far when the ship was in Seska's murderous hands had taken a severe toll. But the holographic doctor was not programmed for long term use, and by any standards, even Tuvok's, no one wanted him on that long. His thoughts flickered briefly over to the dramatically different EMH on the other Voyager. So many things had been different there—healthier. Which is how Fitzgerald looked. Healthy. He returned the doctor's grip. "Kathryn."

"Alive." Fitzgerald almost couldn't say the word, and had to clear his throat midway though, but he managed.

"Where?"

"Here, adun." And if the sound of her voice hadn't electrified every nerve ending in his body, the sight of Kathryn slipping out of a doorway surely did. The doctor walked silently away to stand outpost, leaving the two lovers alone in the alcove. She gently tugged her stunned husband into the supply closet she had been taking cover in, and he pulled her to him, a tear of joy even leaking silently out of one eye. She was less circumspect, in tears with the disbelief of seeing him whole and alive again, and in her arms.

"I lost you. I felt you go," he murmured into her auburn hair, his hand alternately stroking it and clutching her arm. She nodded into his shoulder.

"I died. Fitz revived me. Chakotay couldn't finish the job." He felt her begin to tremble. "And then you vanished, and the link was snapped—and then _he_ came… saved me, pulled me back." Tuvok knew that by _he_, she hadn't meant the doctor.

He almost smiled from the pain. "I also thought you were dead. I cannot comprehend the strangeness of chance… it is vanishingly small. But your counterpart on the other ship did also keep me from passing over." For a moment, he paused, and then breathed in the scent of her. "Curiously…"

"…they weren't lovers?" She did smile, in that quirky, half-cocked way that he loved so much. "I thought that rather odd myself. But perhaps that will change." They stared a moment at each other, comprehending, drinking in the face of their life mate, lost and found again. And then she nodded. "Now I have to get to the bridge."

He stood back, a frown creasing his brow. "I cannot allow it."

She lifted both eyebrows in disbelief. "What?"

Tuvok crossed his arms and shook his head. "I have just gotten you back. I will not risk you again, aduna."

His wife set her hand on the phaser rifle she had been about to shoulder, and looked down at the floor. When she looked up again, there was something in her eyes that he hadn't seen in a very long time. He blinked.

She spoke. "This is where you stand down, Commander. This is what it means to be husband to the captain of this ship. Do you stand with me?"

The question was clearly not rhetorical. He blinked again, and comprehended much. Their planning was at an end. Up to now he could pretend that she was in no real danger—and then her real death had brutally taken away that fear. Now he had to make that choice again, and he was being called upon to honor it. It took everything he had. Still, he had to clear his throat. "You are a fierce warrior, Kathryn Janeway. I stand with you, always. As you well know." And he bowed her forward with as much grace as he could muster.

She led the way down the corridor. Tuvok followed his captain.

* * *

Fitzgerald volunteered to order the turbolift up to the bridge. Kathryn told him to keep clear of the fighting. He was still their only doctor. Kathryn allowed herself a tense squeeze of her husband's hand. Either everything was in place in Engineering, or it wasn't. She was aware that she was counting on someone who was not even of her ship, but at this point was willing to take the leap based on the goodwill of strangers that had saved her life and that of her husband, and had sent him back to her. The turbolift reached the bridge, and it opened. She strode out, and Tuvok right behind her could have been the devil, for the expression on Seska's face. 

"You're both dead!" She stood in the middle of the bridge, rant suspended in mystified disbelief. Frustration and weariness was etched on her face, and for a tiny fragment of time Kathryn took the image and stored it away to ponder over, if she had the luxury of time after. Harry and the rest must have really been giving her hell. Good for them.

"Get the hell off my bridge!" Kathryn spat at her. Harry moved for a switch but she shook her head slightly. This was not Harry's decision—not this final one. He smiled, and bowed to his true captain, and stood ready. Never much of a negotiator, Seska did the only thing Kathryn had ever really expected her to do. With her options limited, and no true idea of who was on her side or not, she whipped out her phaser. Kill first, and burn the questions. That was Seska's style. She even managed a smirk.

Kathryn didn't even have to raise her rifle. Tuvok, Stadi, Harry, and even Ayala, who had evidentially picked a side at last, raised phasers in one sharp motion. Seska couldn't have failed to notice, but she continued to level hers at Kathryn, and that smirk didn't even slip.

Kathryn had to hand it to her—that woman was a consummate actor. But she was done playing on Seska's stage. She squeezed the commbadge in her hand. "Now, B'Elanna."

Seska's eyes glittered "Torres is one card not in your deck, Janeway."

B'Elanna's voice came crisply over the commlink. "Wrong deck, Seska." There was only enough time to see Seska's eyes get really big before she crumpled to the floor, along with Ayala and several other members of the bridge crew, including Stadi, who had prepared herself for the fall and rolled without harm onto the deck. Janeway nodded kindly to her.

"We'll get those cleaned out of your system post-haste, Lieutenant. And thank you." She then tapped the commbadge as she stepped carelessly over Seska's prone body. "My thanks , B'Elanna. I'll be down shortly. Janeway out."

"Aye, Captain." B'Elanna signed off. It was so natural that it almost passed her notice. Almost. The sharp pang in her heart wouldn't let it go completely. But she had one more person to speak to. She walked up the ramp to stand in front of Harry Kim. He was beaming, and looked so exhausted that a breath of wind would knock him down. She very gently tucked her small frame into his arms, and gave him the strongest hug either of them could manage. He hugged her back hesitantly at first, and then fiercely.

"Welcome back, Captain," he whispered into her hair. She found her throat too tight to speak, and when she finally pulled away from him, their cheeks were both damp. She cleared her throat.

"It appears I'm in need of a second officer." She stared at him thoughtfully. "I'd like you for the job, if you'll take it."

He nodded solemnly. "Yes, ma'am." And then a small sparkle of devilry lit his warm brown eyes, and he tilted his head. "That isn't just so I'll remove the chunk of alternate universe from the warp core, is it?"

Kathryn grinned. "I don't think I want to know what you can do to sabotage my ship, Lieutenant." He nodded, and started tapping commands into his panel. She turned to Tuvok, and glanced at Seska, who could hear and see, but could not speak or move. Tuvok was bringing security up, but would be escorting all of the nanite-infested crew to the brig personally. What to do with them would be a later decision. He could easily ignore Seska's heat-searing gaze. He and his captain had a great deal of work to do to make the ship duty-fit again. And he and his wife would make time as well, to become lost in what had been found. He could see from her expression, alternatively soft and hard, that she was thinking similar thoughts.

Harry tapped a final sequence and nodded. "Request permission to go to Engineering? I need to check on the core sequencer and the field stabilizers."

"Granted, Harry. I'll be down in a moment. We need to send B'Elanna on, so use her expertise while you can." Harry nodded, and headed to the lift.

* * *

Lieutenant Commander Torres had just begun regaining consciousness when Janeway had called through the commbadge to activate the pulse. With a relish that tasted of the final settling of scores, B'Elanna had fired back something cryptic about a deck and had entered the starting sequence. Vorik had watched as Torres had gone limp as the pulse lit up the nanites, and suddenly everything clicked into place. _Torres had eaten part of the roast,_ too tempted by fresh meat to be able to resist—even thought she knew exactly what the nanites were going to do. Betrayed by her own heritage, and by Seska's cruelty—Vorik felt a pang of what might have been pity. 

A tense silence pervaded Engineering—deathly silence, since all the engines were offline. And then Janeway's voice jumped through the commlink. "My thanks , B'Elanna. I'll be down shortly. Janeway out."

B'Elanna broke into a huge grin. "Aye, Captain!" And then she leapt into Vorik's arms, cheek to cheek, her bare forearms against his bare shoulders, and squeezed him triumphantly. He froze for a moment, but then caught her as she began to slide down and pressed her close against his lean body. She felt the hum first before she realized what it was, and then all she could think, hazily, was _skin-to-skin contact…_ Because all in a rush she understood why his ability to communicate with her was unfocused and blurry. He had hazed the edges deliberately. But now he couldn't hide it, physically or psychically. Now it didn't matter. Because she was close enough to kiss him first.

She chose to be deliberately gentle. He quickly dissuaded her of that notion. If there was one thing she should never have accused Vorik of lacking, it was passion. Before either of them really comprehended it, B'Elanna had slammed him up against a bulkhead and they were slowly sliding down towards the floor, when a bark of laughter opened up behind them and Harry walked into Engineering. B'Elanna sighed, and they pulled away from each other, but slowly, and Vorik still had his hand on the small of her back when they stood. Harry was already working at a console with his don't-mind-me face on, and B'Elanna burst into heady laughter. She hugged Vorik again, and kissed him one more time, deep and slow.

By the time the kiss ended, Harry was staring openly, his arms crossed over his chest defensively. "Why is it that Vulcans always get the pretty girls?"

Vorik just lifted an eyebrow. B'Elanna looked at the console behind which her double was laying. She tipped her head in that direction, and Vorik nodded. "I will take her myself." He bowed. "It has been… most enlightening, B'Elanna." A tiny smile quirked the corner of his mouth. She stroked her thumb lightly against it.

"A pleasure, Vorik. You've given me much to think about." He eyed her lazily before turning, and her heartrate went up a few notches. Harry, having had enough, pulled her over to the console.

"I have to send you back in thirty minutes, so quit mooning. I opened up a subspace breach in your warp core…"

"You _what??"_

At least, Harry thought, he had her attention now.


	15. The Last Story

**AN: **Thank you. With a vastness I can't even express—especially to Wee-me and Le'letha who wrote big fat reviews and kept me on track (and frantically looking details up in the big Star Trek encyclopedia)—thank you. To all reviewers—you simply have made this story happen. There would have been no story without you. Period. ::throws huge handfuls of pink confetti:: This is the _last_ story—the end of the _first_ story—in this epic tale. So, one last time… onward.

* * *

Kathryn stood on the bridge until she heard the welcome sound of B'Elanna's voice over the comm. "Permission to come aboard, Voyager One." She sounded confident and relieved, and the tension eased out of the captain's small frame. 

"Permission granted, Lieutenant. We'll expect you on the bridge. Voyager One out." She grinned, and Harry grinned back. Tuvok's eyebrow was arched lightly, but he was in the middle of a scan and refrained from comment. Kathryn took a moment to dance lightly over the puzzle in her thoughts. With half of her mind she wanted to hear the rest of the story of Voyager Two, as they had nicknamed the other ship for ease of reference. The other half was fixed on what had transpired, and what had not, between herself and two versions of the same man. And wondering what to do about it.

Within moments, B'Elanna, flushed with excitement and tugging a mildly bewildered Ensign Vorik behind her, strode onto the bridge. Kathryn convened a staff meeting right there on the spot and they listened, rapt, as she told the tale of the other Voyager and the triumphant recapture of the ship. Of Harry, B'Elanna could not have been prouder, but she told Vorik's part with a special drama that made his eartips flush. Kathryn and Tuvok's eyes met at the significance of her ability to communicate actual thoughts through physical contact with the young Vulcan, thought they doubted anyone else but Vorik knew exactly what that meant—even B'Elanna. Still, as B'Elanna flashed Vorik a shy smile, he gazed at her with a depth that she could not have mistaken the meaning of. She did not look away.

"Was I not there at all?" Tom Paris's voice cut through the momentary silence. He had missed the entire cryptic exchange. B'Elanna blinked and tore her eyes away from Vorik, and then had to clear her throat.

"Your counterpart… was the pilot, Tom. In the Badlands." She favored him with a soft frown. "You switched places with Stadi."

His clear blue eyes widened. "You mean I died?"

She nodded, and Kathryn patted him on the shoulder. "You can't be a hero in every universe, Mr. Paris."

He swallowed slowly. "There are worse things than to die for a beautiful woman." Harry chuckled at him, and Tom scowled playfully.

Chakotay was pensive, and Kathryn turned to the silent space that was her first officer. He met her eyes, and nodded. She recognized that his satisfaction at the successful recapture of the ship was balanced with his own personal grief at knowing that somewhere out there, the Maquis had taken over Voyager and killed her captain, and he had, at least in one universe, made that choice. She took a step to him and tilted her head. "I am glad to have my Chakotay back."

He nodded softly, a shadow of his half-devil grin flitting over his lips. Like everyone else on this ship, he belonged to her. There was truth of it even in his inability to speak, and she knew to her heart that he would carry her home. Instead of addressing the point at hand, he flicked his eyes at the chronometer. "Mind if I take this watch?"

A nervous butterfly flickered its lonely way through her stomach. She ignored it. "Consider yourself hired." She nodded crisply to him, and was just about to order them away from the rift when Harry, moving back to the Ops station, caught her attention.

"Captain, the rift is closing." He began running scans, anticipating her next question.

"Natural means or artificial?" She turned to look at the viewscreen as run through Harry's filters and watched the rift slowly vanish. Behind her, she heard Harry snort gently with laughter.

"Artificial, but I don't know how he did it. I just received a final subspace communication." He put the transmission over the comm. It was a series of percussion beats, with timpani and snare and what sounded to Kathryn like xylophone. She raised her eyebrows at him, and he shook his head with a bemused smile. "Its something I've been working on. But I'm not so sure I like the timpani just like that. If you took the high snare and rode it over the top…" He paused, and blushed at her amused expression. "Sorry, Captain. That's all it was."

She nodded, and turned back to the viewscreen for a moment. For a long moment, the entire bridge was silent. And then it was time to go. "Set a course for home, Mr. Paris. Chakotay, you have the bridge. I'll be in my quarters if you need me." She walked up the bridge ramp and paused by Tactical, where she set her hand on the board. Tuvok briefly covered her hand with his. The flush of heat stayed with her all the way down to her quarters.

* * *

Kathryn slipped into the steaming bath with a huge sigh, the days events saturating her mind. The idea of a mutiny troubled her more than she would care to admit. And while she was being honest with herself, the idea of letting her guard down and allowing Tuvok to become the lover he already was in every sense but the physical was troubling, too. Partly because of the question of why it hadn't happened already, and partly whether she was going to take that one small step. It seemed inconsequential now, after this day's events. But it wasn't. 

A small sound startled her, and she opened her eyes to see the man in question standing in her bathroom doorway, his hand balanced gently on the frame, and his dark eyes calm on her. She smiled. "I thought you might be coming, so I set the door to open on your voice."

"I did not expect to find you at your bath." Nor did he seem inclined to move away from the door. She rested her chin on her hands and studied him candidly.

"I come here a great deal when I need to think through things."

He stepped forward into the bathroom. "Does resting in water assist your thought processes?"

She appeared to consider the question while her eyes took in the easy way his weight rested slightly more on one hip than the other. In the many years she had spent learning to read the minutiae that indicated his moods, she had learned to recognize when he was being playful, even when the lilt in his tone and the lift in his brow didn't give it away. Which was actually much more often than she would ever admit to him. What she said to him was, "Doesn't it do the same for you?"

His dark eyes flicked to the side. "Water baths are an unimaginable luxury on Vulcan."

The moment vibrated between them silkily. And then Kathryn moved aside and made room for him. He undressed consciously, carefully folding his uniform as if it needed to be tucked into a drawer before setting it to the side. Physically, he was lithe, cat-like perfection. But she ended up being rather more distracted by the expression in his eyes.

Tuvok had been many things to her: accuser, officer, tactician, council, confident, and finally friend. She couldn't pinpoint the first moment that she had loved him, but it had been fairly early that he had become indispensable to her. Kathryn was fiercely independent, so if she needed him, then love would not have been far behind. But she had never fully comprehended that he might love _her _until now. As he stepped into the bath and the water slid up over the dark, graceful contours of his body, he watched her with such an intent tenderness that her eyes stung with tears.

Her mind was wiped clean of all the possible speeches she had prepared. He tilted his head slightly and reached out to stroke his fingertip and thumb along the bare line of her collarbone. The heat from his touch was so raw that she nearly missed that his hand trembled, very slightly.

But she didn't miss it. For all his outward calm, Tuvok was nervous, and that gave her the last piece—what she had been missing all along without even realizing it.

Courage.

She who had face Kazon and Vidiian, who had taken back her own ship with a phaser rifle and a really bad mood, and who had faced down this man and a room full of admirals, needed courage to face him naked and in a bath. She would have acknowledged the irony had there not been more pressing things on her mind.

Kathryn took his hand and kissed it. "I've been afraid."

"As have I." His voice was as gentle as his gaze. She rose slightly and reached for him, and then he was pulling her against him, waves riding up and down against their torsos pressed together, water splashing outward and his skin glistening, wet against her hands. He kissed her, deep and fever hot, their minds joining intimately together, thoughts winding like ivy as their fingers threaded together.

At some point Tuvok picked her up and carried her to the bed, both of them soaking wet. He tried to balance his weight to the side, fearing to crush her, but Kathryn neatly tipped him off balance, sighing with pleasure as he settled into her. Her fragile body felt like that of a bird's underneath him, but he knew she was anything but fragile. Her mind, her heart… all of her was a constant astonishment to him. And then she slid her thigh across his hip and deftly opened herself to him, physically and spiritually, and she became… _everything_.

* * *

Much later, as he lay on the bed and watched her sleep, Tuvok allowed himself a moment to ponder the implications of taking as a lover the captain of his ship, and his best friend. To the first, he was technically entitled, as his bond had been broken. Without a mate he would not survive. He had been grieved, and he would still face T'Pel his wife and accept judgment, if they returned. _When_ they returned. As to being mate to the captain of a ship, it was not the best choice, he admitted candidly. She was in constant danger, often through her own stubbornness. He would be a fool to think he could exert more influence over her as her lover than as her friend. But he did not regret loving her. As to the third, he wondered how their new relationship would affect the one already in place, which he held dear. 

She stirred against him. "I can hear you thinking, Tuvok." He smiled gently.

"I apologize for waking you, Kathryn." He kissed her cheek, and she nuzzled against his chest. Something stirred in his belly, and he marveled at her ability to evoke desire in him. He realized that he wasn't sorry at all for waking her.

"You're worried that this is going to change things?" Her mouth pressed warmly against his shoulder, while her hand slipped slowly across his abdomen.

"Vulcans do not worry," he admonished her teasingly. "But yes."

She nodded, and pulled back to look at him. "Is that a good enough reason to stop walking the path we're on, Tuvok?" Her clear grey eyes were steady on him, and at that moment, she was at once captain, friend, and lover. He lifted a hand to stroke away a wisp of auburn hair from her cheek.

"No. It is not." His hand continued to trail down her shoulder and back, and she closed her eyes and smiled.

"Good answer, old friend."

::fin::


End file.
